Six Months
by Sendibo
Summary: Set from the moment Louisa takes off down the hill, to when she knocks on the door...
1. Chapter 1

**Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures.**

**Set from the end of series three to the beginning of series four.**

CHAPTER ONE

Louisa wanted to turn around. But she couldn't. She could feel Martin's eyes on her back and she urged to turn and meet them with her own. _No, _she reminded herself. _It wouldn't change anything._ She couldn't even glance back for fear of showing him the tears, which had threatened to spill during the encounter in his kitchen and which were now streaming down her face. Luckily all of her close friends were still at the church. The rest of the village knew her, but she could probably avoid many awkward confrontations until she got back to her house and changed.

xxx

Martin wanted her to turn around. As he watched her go, he felt an immense feeling of grief. He could vaguely hear the drycleaners incessant wittering. Shouldn't he be used to that in this village now? He had to snap to make the man shut up, but talking was a bad idea. He felt the tears rising – an effect that only two women had ever had on him. Louisa and his mother. He realised that he had made a colossal mistake. _No, _he thought. _It wouldn't change anything._ He watched her until she had made the turn into the harbour. Then he turned and tried to compose himself, and went inside to deal with the drycleaner.

xxx

It seemed to Louisa that she was being avoided. When she got back to her cottage she changed out of the dress. That night she cried more than she ever had in her life, more than she ever thought was possible. They had not planned to go on honeymoon, but she had taken a week's leave from work, and Martin had got in a replacement. She stayed in for most of the day, but when she was forced to go out to buy some milk, she saw anxious glances being thrown in her direction. There were whispers, but nobody came to speak to her. She knew that they had all believed it wouldn't work out. _They were right, _she thought bitterly. He'd never change. The villagers were wary of the situation. They had expected this to come, but they loved and respected Louisa and could see just how miserable she was.

xxx

The same could not be said for Martin. The villagers joined forces against him in a way similar to when he had sacked Elaine. The word 'tosser' was thrown at him on every corner, much more frequently than usual. He cancelled his replacement and on Monday reopened the surgery. He blindly carried on with his medical duties despite being insulted from all angles, and he reacted in the only way he knew how – retaliation. One of the most vocal villagers was Caroline Bosman. She and Martin had reached mutual understanding since he saved her life, but Caroline was a fierce woman who was loyal to her friends, and stuck up for Louisa at all opportunity. Martin was surprised by the way Pauline handled the situation. She, like the rest of the village, believed that Louisa had been the one to call off the wedding, but she for once got on with her work and didn't seem to gossip as much as the rest of the village. Another unexpected ally came in Roger Fenn, despite his close relationship with Louisa.

xxx

Roger had taken his 'stand in father of the bride' position seriously, and after helping Joan to take care of the wedding guests, they returned to the village. After two days they decided that the couple had been given enough space. Though they both remained equally loyal to both Martin and Louisa, Joan went to deal with her troublesome nephew whilst Roger attempted to comfort Louisa.

xxx

Martin was feeling unusually awkward about the entire situation. Louisa had brought about in him yet another emotion that he was barely aware he had. His normal, logical self would urge him to move on and simply go about his day to day business. Yet the likely prospect of running into Louisa filled him with dread. He didn't know how he should tackle the situation, and so avoided it. Unfortunately, fate brought them together again in yet another of their clumsy collisions. Striding down the main street, he was in a world of thought, barely registering the insults being hurled at him. He was suddenly brought right back to reality when he crashed into someone. Steeling himself for more abuse, he looked down to see a familiar face, partly obscured by long, dark hair. His heart leapt in a familiar way as he registered how beautiful she looked, even without the makeup that recently she hadn't bothered to apply. She looked mortified.

'Sorry Martin', she muttered. She walked briskly away from him, but he didn't miss her quickly brush her hand across her eyes, and he was crestfallen. _You did that, _he told himself angrily. _You made her cry._ The atmosphere on the street was cold, and everybody stopped and watched Martin as he looked after her. But nobody dared to say anything in her earshot, because they knew her loyalty and they knew she would defend Martin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Two

The next encounter was, if possible, even worse. Louisa was finding the job she loved harder these days. In a way, there is not much worse in an upsetting situation than a barrage of questions from small, innocent children who have no concept of discretion. She forced herself to answer in the most vague, neutral way possible, and tried not to break down yet again. But when Harry Yates had an allergic reaction in the lunch hall, she had to forget everything and just call Martin. She hadn't been able to cope with the feelings she experienced during their unexpected meeting and she was embarrassed that he had seen her crying, but she had to push that aside for the sake of the boy's health. The phone call was brief and strained. He came and dealt with Harry, and when the parents had come to take their son home, the entire school was looking curiously at them. Most had heard their parents talk about the story.

'Thank you Martin.' She could not deal with the situation. She forced her sad eyes away from his wounded ones and went to her office. Martin looked around at the sea of faces and left the room.

xxx

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

Roger was sitting with Louisa at her kitchen table. Again, he had called round and found her in tears. He was surprised, as she was a strong woman and appeared to be moving on, but in the past week he'd seen her break down at least every two days. He knew that she still loved Martin with all her heart, but this was out of character. And she's just broken the terrible news – she had taken a job in London. He knew that she was the best head that Portwenn Primary had ever, and possibly would ever have. But he also knew that she wasn't one to make rash decisions.

'I thought I could cope, that it would die down after a while, but it hasn't. People haven't said anything but it's awkward and strained whenever I go anywhere. When I run into him it's all I can do to act normally, and then I go off and cry somewhere. At the school all the kids keep asking me stuff and I can't tell them to shut up because it's not their fault that they don't know it's inappropriate, and I just... I just don't feel in control of my life anymore!'

He put his arm around her as she put her head in her hands. She was one of the strongest women he'd ever met and yet here she was, broken. He felt almost like her dad, he just wanted to make it all better. Still, it didn't look like Terry Glasson would be here to do the job any time soon, so it seemed that it was up to Roger. He stayed a while, and then he went to leave.

'What are you going to tell Martin? You know you're the best thing that ever happened to him.'

'I don't know about that, Roger. I don't know how I'll tell him. I can barely speak to him right now.'

'Keep in touch, Louisa. The village is going to miss you.'

xxx

_Am I doing the right thing? _ Decisive as she had been when she told Roger she was leaving, Louisa was full of doubts. She would be moving away from everything she loved, including the love of her life. She still did not like the idea of living with Holly in London. But when she got the email saying that yes, Queensgate School still had a place available, she decided to take it. Two weeks ago she would never have thought that she'd be leaving Portwenn. But life in the village had become near impossible what with the nosy residents and having to avoid the local doctor, who lately seemed to be everywhere.

She deliberated for ages about how she should tell Martin that she was leaving. There was no easy way to say it. And there was always a small hope inside her that believed everything would be okay. That she and Martin would resolve their problems, as they had so many times in the past. Then her common sense took over. This wasn't a little squabble, or even a big argument. They had effectively decided that they could never be together, and the fact that they had both thought it meant that they must have been right.

xxx

Martin was having a particularly irritating set of patients that day. He had seen three timewasters already, which was a lot even by Portwenn's standards. The others had been chatterers. Could nobody these days let him examine them in peace? He had just started an examination of Mrs Jones' mouth, when he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at the window, but saw nothing and frowned. She turned to look too.

'Stop it, turn your head back. How do you expect me to examine you otherwise?' He was in his usual foul mood, mainly caused by the fact that Louisa seemed to be avoiding him. Not only that, but she hadn't had a blood test in a while and she was looking pale. Normally he would have told her to come into the surgery, but it was hard, as he couldn't get her alone long enough to have a conversation.

He heard a loud crash in the kitchen. He jumped and stormed out of the consultation room.

'PAULI-'

Pauline was sitting at her desk staring at him, as were the waiting patients. Mrs Jones' voice floated out of the consulting room.

'How do you expect to examine me if you aren't even here?' she said impatiently. Martin ignored her as usual, and headed curiously into the kitchen. One of the chairs was askew, and there was an envelope on the table. This time he knew he wasn't imagining things – he saw a dark ponytail flick against the window for a second. He walked across and out of the door. There was no sign of Louisa. He walked around the side of the house and out to the hill, but there was no sign of her anywhere. Confused, he returned to the kitchen and opened the envelope. A ring fell out – Louisa's engagement ring. He picked up the note that accompanied it.

'No!'

xxx

Louisa didn't see Martin. As he rushed out of his kitchen, turned left, and hurried around the side, she was sitting on a low wall at the right side of the house. Her head was in her hands and she was pale. She put her hands behind her and pushed herself up, then got unsteadily to her feet. She steadied herself, walked around and down the hill. She was glad that he hadn't seen her. She went to her house and picked up a suitcase.

xxx

'Surgery is cancelled. Reschedule any appointments'. Martin walked through the waiting room, ignored complaints from the waiting patients and walked out of the door. Portwenn without Louisa was... unimaginable. He knew how happy she had been, and he'd ruined it for her. He had to stop her, before she left for good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Three

Martin ran. He ran with an urgency he hadn't before. He had to stop her. He wasn't yet quite sure how he would do that, but he'd do it somehow. He tore down the hill, and was outside White Rose Cottage within a matter of minutes. He got there and knocked on the door. Why wasn't she answering?

He looked through the window – was something wrong with her? He stepped back slowly. He could see through to her balcony. The chairs and table that were usually there were inside the main room, which looked strangely empty. All the friendly clutter – books, plants, bowls that usually crammed her shelves and surfaces were gone.

She'd gone too.

xxx

As Louisa climbed into the waiting taxi she felt unbelievably tired. The last few weeks had been the worst of her life. She hadn't slept well for worrying, and she carried on. What had she done? It had been a hasty decision, and look where her last hasty decision had got her. Her life had gotten on top of her recently. As she worried away in the back of the cab, she slowly became drowsier until she dozed off, exhausted.

xxx

Joan made her way up the steps to Martin's front door. She knocked, but there was no reply. She found that the door was open and went into the surgery. There was no sign of anybody. She had been checking on Martin more regularly lately to make sure he was eating and not doing anything too stupid. She knew how badly he had taken the break up, and she knew that he was upset. But she'd seen Louisa too and realised that if only they both would see some sense, they'd be fine. They'd just gone into everything too quickly. She stepped into the kitchen, but there was still no sign of Martin. She spotted the note on the kitchen table where it had been left and began to scan the contents. She sighed sadly, made her way to the consulting room and knocked.

'Surgery isn't open!'

She stepped inside and closed the door. Martin was sitting in his chair. He was staring into space, fiddling with the engagement ring that had fitted Louisa so perfectly. He turned when Joan entered.

'She's gone' he said simply.

'What? Already? Just like that?'

Martin did not reply. Instead, she noticed tears welling up in his eyes.

'You two really are stupidly stubborn.'

'What do you mean?'

Joan was surprised that he seemed to be listening to her for once, and decided to go for it.

'You love her. She loves you. Why can't you just sort out your differences? You've done it before.'

'We said that we wouldn't make each other happy. '

'And did you mean it?'

'No.'

'And you think she did mean it.'

'Why would she say it if she didn't?'

'You did.'

'I wouldn't make her happy, Aunty Joan. Look how unhappy I've made her in the past four years.'

'And look how unhappy you're making her now! Look how unhappy she's making you! I never saw you happier than those few weeks you were engaged. Come on Marty, you're a clever man. Can you not make the connection?'

'No.'

Joan saw that she was going to get nowhere. She'd done her best, and maybe her words would make sense in the long run, but right now he was upset. She'd had forty seven years of experience, and she knew that when he was upset he was stubborn, and nothing she said would be able to change that.

xxx

Louisa got out of the taxi at Holly's house. She was already homesick for the sound of the waves and smell of the sea, but she tried to put those thoughts out of her mind as Holly appeared in the doorway.

'Lou! It's _so _good to see you. How are you?' Louisa sighed at the prospect of going over the events Holly had missed. They hadn't been in contact since she left Portwenn.

'Hi. I'm quite tired actually. It's been a stressful few weeks.'

'I would after that journey – and no offence, but you look it. How about a quick bite to eat, catch up, and then we'll go to bed. Tomorrow Queensgate wants you to go over for the tour and briefing, so you'll need to meet the head at half ten. It's so nice to have you here Lou – I've arranged to get some of the old lot over Saturday night, it'll be brilliant. Sea bass okay?'

'Thanks, that'd be lovely'.

Explaining the events to someone else first hand was quite relieving, Louisa found. In the village everybody found out about it and made their own assumptions. Though Louisa knew Holly and suspected that she'd make assumptions anyway, she was still glad to be relaxing in the company of her old friend, and not having to constantly put on an act. When she went to bed that evening she was desperately sad to have left Portwenn and Martin, but her overall feeling was one of relief.


	4. Chapter 4

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures**

Chapter Four

Portwenn soon felt the effects of Louisa's departure. She was an essential part of the village and everybody missed her. Her close friends were sad to see her go – Joan, Bert, Pauline, Caroline, Roger. She was missed greatly up at the school. The new headmaster, Mr Strain, was new in the village. Nobody knew him and he seemed to be competent, but the children didn't connect with him and he didn't make the extra efforts that Louisa had always done, such as after school clubs. He didn't seem to fit in properly with the village. But the most noticeable change in the village had been Martin. When the wedding had been called off he was angry and impatient, even worse than usual. He lost more patients than usual and was downright unpleasant. When the news spread that Louisa had left for London and accepted a new job, they were preparing themselves for the fallout. Some even transferred to Wadebridge in advance.

However, their assumptions could not have been more wrong. Visitors to the surgery in the weeks following Louisa's departure were taken back at how quiet he was. He answered their questions with the bare minimum of explanations needed, prescribed the required medication and sent them on their way. Occasionally a truly moronic individual would spark his temper, but to all intents and purposes he had retreated inside a shell.

The villagers began treating him as they had Louisa when the wedding had been called off – they avoided him cautiously. No longer were many insults hurled at him in the streets. They realised just how distressed he was by Louisa leaving, and the thought of their obnoxious doctor having those kind of feelings was quite unnerving.

xxx

_London isn't all it's cracked up to be _thought Louisa. She had been at Holly's for just four days. She looked out of her bedroom window at a busy street with a small square of greenery in the middle, and dreamed of miles of rolling green fields, and amazing deep turquoise ocean and the beauty that was Portwenn. Then she scolded herself. _Scenery isn't everything. _Her daydream was interrupted by the low droning of Holly's cello. She had to admit that in performance with her group she was amazing, but when she was unaccompanied and practising it was a bit annoying.

She moved away from the window and lay on her bed. She compared the difference between London and Cornwall. London seemed a lot noisier. She supposed that Cornwall was probably just as loud, but she was used to the sounds of the seagulls, waves and tourists as opposed to the roar of the traffic and music from adjoining buildings. The social life was different. They were out meeting different people each night; Holly seemed to have loads of friends. But Louisa didn't connect with them as she did with the people in Cornwall. There you could run into people every day and have a conversation in the street. In London she knew nobody and was bored for many of Holly's social gatherings. She would much rather be sitting at home, watching telly or doing her marking, as she had done so often in Cornwall. The school was very different. The resources were better – Louisa admitted she enjoyed that aspect of the teaching. The school was well decorated, with notice boards, plaques and panelling. The private sector paid better, but she missed the informality of her old school. She wanted to see brightly coloured display boards, the children's paintings, artwork and posters. The kids didn't know her or any of the teachers properly - there were no proper relationships between the staff and the pupils, and the pupils often misbehaved. She did take to one girl in her class – Darcey. Darcey was a small, shy, thin seven year old who didn't get on well with the others in her class. She was well behaved and helpful, and Louisa felt drawn to this small girl who made her life a tiny bit happier.

The biggest difference of course, was Martin. Martin, who had been a major part of her life for the past three years. Dependable, honest Martin. Martin, whom she still loved. Martin, who was in her thoughts constantly whether they were together or not. _Did I really think that moving away would change that?_

xxx

Martin was eating his lunch when Pauline called him.

'Doc! Emergency!'

He hurried into the waiting room.

'It's Mr Strain, he's fallen on his ankle, says it really hurts and he can't get up.'

'Tell him not to move it, I'll be there immediately.' He picked up his medical bag. 'Where did he fall?'

'He's at home. Umm... he moved into Miss Glasson's old place.'

'Right. Okay then. Well. Bye.' He moved quickly out of the surgery and slammed the door.

It was harder than he could have imagined, pushing open that blue door and walking inside to see the familiar floral wallpaper and see not Louisa standing there, saying his name in her beautiful accent. The kitchen was different – it had lost the warmth when it lost Louisa and her possessions. He traced his previous steps across the kitchen to stand by the fridge, where Mr Strain lay, where Holly had once lain. He remembered the way Louisa had looked across in terror as he fought to save her friend's life. Tearing himself away from his memories, he began to examine Mr Strain. He diagnosed a broken ankle and called an ambulance, then grabbed his bag and fled from the familiar, yet unfamiliar house.

As he stood outside that familiar cottage, Martin was pondering on his life. It wasn't something he did often. As he had told Louisa – he just tried to keep busy. But now he'd definitely changed, and even his clocks were no longer appealing or distracting. He thought back to the night he'd told Louisa this. Back when their successful relationship was just taking off. Back when they had no idea of what was to come. Back when he still had hope. Hope... that was it. Like Joan had said, they always got back together somehow. But now Louisa was gone, and it was all his fault. It was his fault that there was no hope left. With one last look at White Rose Cottage, he headed back to the surgery.

_I wonder what she's doing now?_

xxx

Louisa was sitting in a crowded concert hall. There were clusters of tables and chairs throughout the beautifully decorated hall, which had a raised platform in the middle. On this platform sat Holly, formally dressed with her polished brown cello, playing with her group. Louisa smiled, applauded and appeared to be enjoying herself.

She had moved her chair a little away from the table where she sat, with yet more of Holly's posh friends. She didn't want to be in a stuffy hall, she wanted to be enjoying the beautiful Cornish air. Instead of a hard, uncomfortable chair she wanted to be sitting on the grass, on a blanket with the man she loved. Even surrounded by her new 'friends' she felt alone. She really wanted to be anywhere but here.

Actually she wanted to be at home, in bed. Not her room at Holly's – _home. _The night before they'd been to a party with a finger buffet which had clearly disagreed with her. _Salmonella en croute_, she thought with a sad smile. She'd been sick this morning and after lunch, but hadn't mentioned it to Holly for fear of insulting her. She still felt sick and tired as they prepared to go out that evening, but she couldn't possibly miss Holly's concert. So she plastered a brave smile on her face and chose a table close to the door. They finally got back that evening and Louisa collapsed into bed. _It's times like this you wish someone would offer to make you toast _she thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Five

Martin was a lot mellower. Since Louisa leaving he had been more prone to giving advice and dealing with timewasters – not because he decided to tolerate them, but because he just didn't care. He was doing things he had never done before. He attended meetings and charity events, simply to avoid the arguments and conflict that would result from his refusal. He even agreed to a school governors meeting once. The atmosphere in the room changed dramatically when he walked in. He couldn't decide whether it was because they had been discussing him or because he so very rarely turned up. Probably both, he decided. The meeting was agonising. In hindsight he saw it was obvious that the first meeting after her departure would mention Louisa. The general consensus seemed to be that the school had gone downhill a bit since Miss Glasson had left. The quality of the teaching was the same as ever, but the organisation was going astray and there was little imagination in the new projects. It seemed that Stu Mackenzie was having to put in extra hours to ensure that the school's annual Christmas Fair went ahead, as Louisa usually organised it and Mr Strain showed no signs of helping. Martin left the meeting as early as he possibly could, after noticing the accusing glances that had been directed his way throughout.

One evening Roger headed over to the surgery. He didn't like to disturb Martin outside surgery hours, especially with what the poor guy had gone through lately, but he thought he could perhaps try to cheer him up in the process. Once Martin had discussed Roger's twins and assured him that their recent changes were perfectly normal, Roger decided it was time to progress to the personal stuff.

'Would you like a drink?' Martin asked.

'Got any wine?' Martin went to the cupboard and removed the last bottle left by his father. He sighed at the memories as he made his way over to the sink to pour his customary glass of water.

'Come on mate, one won't do you any harm.' Martin raised an eyebrow at this and grunted at the suggestion, remembering the last time. _But what harm could it do? Roger isn't trying to inebriate me. _He stopped thinking before comparisons could become too painful, and briefly checked that it was Saturday tomorrow before pouring two glasses.

'So, how're you bearing up?'

'Fine.'

Roger probed Martin for half an hour, before admitting defeat and realising that Joan had been right - Martin was stubborn as they came and wasn't going to open up any time soon. It would take someone very special to get him to say anything, and she was over two hundred miles away. But then if she was here, he wouldn't need to be here.

After Roger had left, Martin remained sitting at his kitchen table and drinking, vaguely remembering the last time. Had he really said 'I love you?' He didn't remember, but he hoped so. About an hour later he felt his head fogging over, and somehow managed to get upstairs and into bed.

He woke twelve hours later, feeling sick with a terrible headache. As he lay back in bed and realised that this was the exact reason he didn't drink, he resigned himself sadly to the fact that he'd have to head down to Mrs Tishell's and find his own hangover cure.

xxx

At around the same time two hundred miles away, Louisa woke feeling similarly awful, without the comfort of a hangover. _What's wrong with me? _She'd been feeling bad for days, and from her experience, should have got over the food poisoning yesterday. She got up and shivered, putting on her dressing gown, then paused for a moment before heading quickly to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. She hadn't seen the need to mention anything to Holly yet – she seemed to have contacts everywhere and Louisa was keen not to offend anyone. However, she knew that this couldn't go on, so she made an appointment to see her new doctor – a Mr Peterson, on Monday.

The previous two evenings she and Holly had spent the evenings marking. Louisa was in her element, having been to the shop and bought a packet of brightly coloured stickers. She'd found that the children's work books contained the same wobbly writing and abstract drawings as the ones she was used to, but that they looked like the school – formal and dull. The kids in the school were very intelligent, but they were still just seven and she believed that children learned and behaved much better if they were interested.

Today however, she had been at a loss for what to do with herself. Now that she was simply a class teacher and not the head she had a lot less work to do. She didn't know how Holly managed to keep up with everything, including her buzzing social life. As soon as Louisa had arrived, she'd been trying to get her involved in the fast paced London life, which seemingly included matchmaking. Trying to get over her latest troubles, the last thing she wanted was a love life. But she'd known Holly for too long to expect her to take no for an answer. _I'm getting out of here _she decided.

She immediately started house hunting. Well, flat hunting. Well, very small flat hunting. A lesson she'd learned very quickly was that London was much more expensive than Cornwall, and she hadn't had the London salary for long enough to put down a deposit. She'd rented out her house back in Cornwall. She'd thought about selling – the beautiful location would have made her enough to get a flat easily. But it was too final, and she still didn't know where her life was going.

That evening, she'd been called down for a dinner party, where she found herself sitting next to one of Holly's single male friends. _Oh dear. _It was going to be a long night.

'So Lou, have you met Paul? Very successful in his field, he's a radiographer from St Catherine's'. Louisa smiled and gritted her teeth. It was going to be a very long night.

An hour later, Louisa was on the brink of tears. Paul had turned out to be a very nice and considerate man. She was fed up of small talk and had quietly explained that her engagement had just been broken off and that she wasn't really looking for a relationship, and he'd accepted it and carried on with the conversation. It was all going well and she was actually enjoying herself and relaxing in his company until he'd looked at her in a concerned way.

'Have you been sleeping well lately? You look quite tired.'

'No... I suppose I've... I've had a lot on my mind... ' Her voice shook slightly and he looked bemused.

'Are you okay? Was it something I said?'

'No... It was just something Martin always did. Tried to diagnose me.'

'I'm sorry, I only meant well'.

'So did he... oh God, excuse me...'

Louisa rushed out of the room.

When she stood up, she caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror. _I look like crap,_ she observed. Her makeup had run slightly and her hair was all over the place. Sighing, she opened the cabinet in search of a hairbrush. Eventually she saw one behind a pile of Holly's various lotions. Manoeuvring it out, she knocked a box to the floor, and some tampons rolled out. Sighing, she bent to retrieve them. Then she froze. Replacing them on the shelf along with the unused hairbrush, she headed up the stairs to her room, biting her lip violently. She wasn't going back to the party tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

It seemed that surgeries in London weren't that different from the ones in Portwenn after all. The same delays, unexpected interruptions and malingerers. Even the same raised voices and slammed doors as patients either stormed out or ran away. It was a novelty to her to have a choice of doctors, a different one behind each door. Growing up in the village, she'd only ever seen Dr. Simm when she'd succumbed to a cold or chicken pox. Louisa shivered and hoped that she didn't have one of the grumpier doctors. She'd been lucky enough not to come across Martin's acid tongue – not during a consultation, anyway. Little did she know, in her presence Martin had dredged up the closest to a bedside manner that he was ever likely to.

'Louisa Glasson?'

xxx

Martin came out of the consulting room and was attacked by branches. He spluttered and batted them out of his face. Al looked over and Pauline stifled a smile. Looking around and realising what was going on, Martin sighed inwardly and made an about turn, heading back into the consulting room. Three years ago he'd had his first argument with Pauline on the matter, which fell on deaf ears. At Christmas she regressed to a child –more than usual, that was. He'd learned that ignoring Christmas in Portwenn was damn near impossible, and that the best option was just to go along with it in as painless a way as possible. He heard Pauline muttering to Al.

'He can't always have been such a Scrooge, can he? I mean, a kid who's not excited at Christmas just... isn't a kid.'

'Well, it's hard to imagine the Doc as a kid. I think he must have been born in that suit!'

Grimacing at the memories of disastrous childhood Christmases in which he'd been discharged from the boarding school to his parents, Martin thought instead about Joan, and what he was going to get her for Christmas. Joan was the one person he allowed to involve him in Christmas. Well, apart from last Christmas. He always went up to Joan's farm on the day, to keep her company. If he'd been allowed to go to her as a child, he suspected that the festive season would have been much more enjoyable – but his father was determined that this time of year was a time for family. _Just a shame that Christopher Ellingham didn't know the meaning of the word family _thought Martin bitterly.

xxx

Normally she was one of the most festive people in the village. Christmas had always been one of Louisa's favourite times of year – her dad had always tried to make it as special as possible. Usually her tree was out on December first, accompanied by tinsel and baubles. Cards from the various children she taught papered her walls. This year however, Christmas was the last thing on her mind.

Her new doctor was friendly, charming and sensitive. Throughout the consultation he explained each step and chatted away incessantly. Though she hadn't wanted a grumpy one, Louisa found the constant talk irritating. She wanted time to think and get her head round things. _Be grateful it isn't Martin, _she reminded herself. What if she was still in Portwenn? This would be humiliating. But then what if they'd never broken off the wedding? What if they'd never set a date? What if they'd never... you could drive yourself crazy thinking about what if's.

At least the process had been less humiliating than it would have been in Portwenn. Here she was grateful – for once – for the anonymity of London. She could keep her private matters private. She had been able to see a doctor who didn't know her and wouldn't judge her. When she hadn't been able to wait two whole days, she'd been able to go to the chemist, for whom the purchase was probably common and who wouldn't spread the news to everybody she knew. She'd be able to keep to herself for a while the information that she hadn't needed the awful examination to tell her – that she was pregnant.

xxx

'Doc, emergency! At the harbour, someone hit their head and they're unconscious.'

There was a collective groan from Martin and the patients in his packed waiting room. It was dark and overcast outside. The contrast from the lights gave the usually dark surgery a bright and cosy atmosphere. He got his medical bag, got in his car and slowly crawled his way down the hill, for once not forcing the patients into the cold, and allowing them to stay and drink tea.

Portwenn was suffering a harsh winter. Other parts of the country had snow, but being on the coast this was rare. They'd had one day of whiteness before the village became a dark, windswept, treacherous ice land. Martin was being called out at all hours to people who had slipped on the ice or suffered more dangerous injuries. This called him away from his packed surgery, full of people with colds or arthritis which caused a backlog of patients. Far from being worn out, it gave him a constant stream of things to do to keep him busy, and so he could avoid too much thinking. He hated thinking – the destination of his thoughts was often the same, and often painful.

xxx

Louisa was struggling to come to terms with the new information. The school holidays had set in and she spent a lot of time home alone. She had finally moved out of Holly's into a small bedsit. It wasn't ideal, but frankly spending another week with Holly would have driven her mental. So she went for it and got a place that was going cheap since the owner needed it let before Christmas. So here she was now - staring out at the thick snow and going over everything over and over again. _How?_ If truth be told, she wasn't quite sure. Martin wouldn't neglect contraception, he was a doctor. Surely not. But her brain was all fuzzy and overwhelmed. She couldn't really be sure.

But however it had happened, it _had _happened, and now she wasn't really sure where she stood. Of course, it had happened at probably the worst possible time. After all that had happened, she didn't know how she would even begin to tell Martin. Oh God, what would he say? She would lose her job at the snobby school, which could possibly be a blessing in disguise, but how would she earn? How could she bring up a child in a place that was barely big enough for her alone? Still, at least she could keep the information to herself for a while. She had at least a few weeks. She had to deal with things herself before she told everyone else and open herself up to judgement. She was shocked and tired and frightened, and she didn't have a clue how on earth she was going to cope with this alone. But deep down she knew that this was the child she had longed for, and despite all of her surface feelings, she was elated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures. **

Chapter Seven

On Christmas morning, Martin awoke at his usual time. He went about his usual routine, then at eleven o' clock pulled a present wrapped in dark green paper from a drawer. He'd had quite a job finding paper that wasn't adorned with talking snowmen or Santa, neither of which he'd ever seen the appeal of. Christmas was such a childish holiday. He rarely felt like celebrating it anyway, especially after last year. But he wasn't going to let Aunty Joan down – she shouldn't have to spend Christmas alone. He stepped out onto the quiet streets of Portwenn. They'd been almost deserted recently due to the weather, even before PC Penhale's 'Winter Warning' meeting in the village hall. Only yesterday had the ice begun to thaw and more people were venturing out.

'Happy Christmas, Doc!' Martin grunted in response to the calls of the local teenagers, who were wearing pink antlers and giggling as he got into his car and slammed the door. He headed down the hill and soon was making his way along the winding roads to Joan's farm. He skidded on a stray patch of ice, and knocked his elbow against the controls as he fought to keep the car under control. As the car bumped back onto the road, 'Merry Christmas Everyone' blared out of the radio. A pained expression appeared on his face as he turned it off - but not before an image of Louisa murmuring the words popped into his head, sitting excitedly in the passenger seat with a smile on her face. So much could change in just a year.

xxx

Louisa woke up early with a smile on her face. Despite her troubles and the fact that she'd probably had about four hours sleep, she never could resist the magic of Christmas Day. She got up straight away and headed for the other side of the room, putting on her dressing gown and opening the small fridge. Following personal tradition, she fetched some chocolate from the fridge and poured herself some juice. Normally she'd have wine, but it couldn't be helped. She put on her festive CD and smiled sadly before turning up the volume and heading to the small pile of presents waiting under the tiny Christmas tree. She caught sight of the Christmas card that lay on the table and sighed. The card which had been deliberated over for days and which in the end hadn't been sent.

She arrived at the pub later where she was meeting a large group for dinner, still in high spirits. Sitting at a long table, she ate with a large group of already tipsy singles, and managed to lose herself in their loud, cheery discussion. She couldn't help observing that the meat was ever so slightly dry, and the conversation was rather banal. The new pop singles were drowned out by the chatter, and she began to feel rather lost. She drifted into memory of driving across the moors in contented silence, classic festive songs filling a small kitchen, Joan's small table crowded by the wonderful, home cooked food. Best of all, the company of Joan and of course Martin, who seemed much more relaxed in the presence of his aunt. She'd been invited up there by Joan after the fiasco of her father's visit, and was glad that she didn't have to spend another Christmas wondering where he was and what trouble he might be in. She sighed, wondered what Christmas was like in Exeter prison and focused back to the rambling story being told by Holly's deputy headmaster.

xxx

Knocking on Joan's front door, Martin glanced briefly at the bare doorframe. He'd long suspected that there was more to Louisa's invitation last year than Joan had admitted. Hugging his aunt stiffly as the door opened, he followed his aunt into the kitchen. It looked exactly the same as last year, the same mountain of food and home grown poinsettia. The only thing different was the lack of Louisa, and if he was honest, that hurt more than expected it to. It was beginning to dawn on him that he might never see Louisa again. However, he was well practised in hiding his thoughts at the back of his mind, so he sat down, exchanged gifts with Aunty Joan, and tried to enjoy the meal. This wasn't hard, as Joan was an excellent cook.

Afterwards they went to the sitting room to watch a film. They had done this together since Martin was a child, and he secretly loved the familiar old habit. Aunty Joan went in and sat in her favourite armchair, and Martin sat on the sofa. As the film started and they occasionally made conversation, Martin felt again like something was missing. Louisa had only joined them for one Christmas, but her absence was distracting. Last year she had curled on the sofa beside him. Engrossed in the film, she'd absent-mindedly let her head fall onto his shoulder. It was quite distracting, especially avoiding Joan's gaze, but it was pleasant, and he occasionally stole a quick glance at her. Joan had watched this all knowingly.

xxx

That evening, Holly dragged Louisa off to a party. The attitude to Christmas here was completely different to how she'd experienced it, but she managed to somewhat enjoy the evening. Luckily Holly had had quite a bit to drink over the course of the day and so hadn't questioned it when she'd turned down the umpteenth glass of wine offered. There were a few marginally nice people there, so Louisa managed to have quite a good conversation with some of them, and actually had quite a good time. After an hour or so dancing, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. So she got her bag, said her goodbyes and began to make her way towards the exit. As she was driven away a taxi, she saw two people kissing passionately outside a bar and sighed as she remembered...

It had been a lovely day. After the initial awkwardness when the film finished and she realised exactly what she'd been doing, they thanked Joan, who said she'd leave them to see themselves out as her back had been playing up again. When Joan had managed to convince Martin that no, she didn't need immediate medical attention, they made their way out to the door. As Martin ducked under the door frame, he'd been caught up in greenery that Louisa was sure hadn't been there when they'd come in. Glancing up and seeing the white berries, she had a split second to decide. Martin was initially surprised, but she kept going and soon he had put his arms around her and the kiss deepened. When he kissed her, she could somehow forget the negative encounters – forget everything, in fact. When they eventually pulled apart, they smiled. As Louisa leaned in for another kiss, he did it. Again.

''You do realise that the supposed effects of mistletoe as an aphrodisiac are nonexistent?'

Louisa sighed. 'What?'

''The common superstitions linking mistletoe to fertility, and hence intercourse are mainly based on the semen-like appearance of the berry juice, however if consumed they would in fact probably damage chances of conception, due to their toxic properties. In any case after a certain age fertility begins to decrease naturally anyway, and so medical intervention would be more useful than other-''

''Martin, I know it's superstition, it was just a kiss!'' Louisa was close to tears at the insensitive reminder that she wasn't getting any younger.

''But the presence of mistletoe often encourages one of both parties to make contact, often meaning that any resultant romance is based upon superstition and is less likely-''

''Just forget it. Let's go home.'' Without waiting for a reply, she went back to the car.

xxx

Martin had regretted the words almost as soon as they had left his mouth; unfortunately nerves had once again got the better of him. He was never nervous when in his surgery, dealing with people he was superior to. When Louisa initiated intimate situations, he was out of his depth and he was the inferior one with the lack of knowledge. His medical conscience took over in an attempt to regain some ground before he hopelessly lost control. Louisa was far more at ease in these situations, but he couldn't help ruining them. It was probably a good thing she was gone. She could find someone who could manage a simple kiss every now and again.

He realised that a) he was crying and b) that Joan was speaking to him.

''Sorry, I need the bathroom.'' He made a swift exit.

xxx

Louisa lay in bed after an exhausting day. It was early – there were probably kids still partying all over the country. It had been a very odd Christmas. For her, Christmas had always been a day to spend with your loved ones – your closest family. Now she had none, not even the comforting substitute family that was Portwenn. But not for long... again, suppressed fear and happiness loomed as her hands made their way down to her midriff and she contemplated next Christmas. Martin had been wrong about the fertility, mistletoe or no mistletoe.

xxx

Martin spent longer than usual in the bathroom. He washed his hands and face and then ventured out to the sitting room where he knew his aunt would be waiting, not fooled for a second. _Where is she?_ He peered into the kitchen, and then rushed in as he saw her slumped against the far wall.

'Aunty Joan?'


	8. Chapter 8

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.**

**Went into a lot of medical detail in this one with a lot of stuff I don't entirely understand - I don't think it's all quite correct!**

Chapter Eight

Martin rushed over to his aunt. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with her – apart from the fact that she was on the floor.

'Aunty Joan!'

'Martin, I can't move my leg!'

'Which leg?'

'The left. I don't know what happened, I was just walking along and it went completely numb, I can't move it at all.'

'Are you in any pain?'

'Yes, my back and my leg have been hurting for days. I thought it was just the osteoporosis.'

In the ambulance Martin worried, and because Martin worried, Joan worried. She always felt safe in the hands of her intelligent and frequently domineering nephew. She tried to tell herself that he'd been silent and moody for weeks, that it wasn't necessarily a bearing on what he was feeling now.

''Marty, what's happened to my leg?'' There was still no movement.

''Paralysis is caused by complications of the nervous system.''

''Stop beating around the bush Martin, tell me what's going on.''

''There could be any number of causes, it could simply be a trapped or twisted nerve, generally they sort themselves out.'' Joan gave Martin a look, the one which since childhood had forced him to tell the truth.

''Some of the main nervous disorders are Alzheimer's disease, Multiple sclerosis and brain tumours, Guillain-Barre syndrome causes full paralysis, but most patients recover over time. Also, there's-''

''Okay, I get the idea.''

''Well you asked!''

''I know, Marty, I asked, you answered. Thank you.''

The rest of the journey continued in silence. Upon arrival at the hospital, Martin temporarily because his usual obnoxious self as he sought out the best possible care for his aunt. This touched Joan yet embarrassed her, and she spent her time apologising to various consultants as she was hurried around the hospital in a wheelchair for various tests.

Around midnight Joan and Martin were called in to see the consultant.

''Good evening, Mrs Norton. It would seem that your paralysis is caused simply by your sciatic nerve being trapped. This means that pressure is being applied to the nerve which begins in your lower back and supplies movement to your legs and feet. The signals from the brain can't get through, and that's why you can't move the leg.'' Joan looked visibly relieved, but Martin was not so easy to mollify.

''A normal trapped nerve shouldn't take this long to right itself. What's causing the pressure?''

''Yes. Well, it seems that there is a mass in your aunt's abdomen, pressing on the nerve, hence the paralysis will remain until we manage to find the source.''

''What? She's recently been monitored for osteoporosis, which included a CT scan! How could any competent radiographer have failed to notice a significant mass?'' Martin yelled. He was clearly angrier than he had ever been before. The consultant seemed extremely embarrassed, and unsure of what to say. Eventually it was decided that they would take Joan in for the night, and she sent Martin home. He travelled home in a taxi, his anger and fear keeping him awake for much of the night, Christmas day long forgotten.

Martin woke early the next morning after a fitful night's sleep. His anger still had not lessened – not while he was still waiting for a diagnosis. He looked at the clock – seven a.m. Remembering that Christmas visiting hours should still apply, he showered and dressed, before heading straight to the hospital. Heading into the ward, he found Joan sitting with the consultant looking through scan pictures.

''What is it, what's wrong?'' He strode over and swept up one of the images.

''Hello, Martin.'' Joan gave him the exasperated look that took him back to Louisa's reminders about his manners.

''Um... yes, hello, Aunty Joan.''

''As I was explaining to Mrs Norton, the scans show AAA – that is, abdominal aortic aneurysm.''

''How big?''

''Well, that's the bad news, I'm afraid. It's five centimetres across – we'll have to consider surgery.''

''Why? Martin, what's going on?'' Joan looked to Martin, but the consultant spoke first.

''Mrs Norton, your main artery is swollen at a certain point – a bit like a blocked garden hose. Now, this means -'' Martin was looking at the young consultant, appalled.

''_A blocked garden hose? _Is that what they're teaching in medical schools these days? An aneurysm of the aorta is frequently caused by cholesterol build up around the arteries or a blood clot, which leads to the weakening of the arterial walls, which then leads to swelling. The pressure build up originates from the inside of the artery, rather than the outside as would occur with a hose. The two are in no way similar!''

''Mr Ellingham, to a patient with no previous medical training, it often helps to liken the condition to an everyday circumstance which will allow them to understand more easily.''

''It's _Dr_ Ellingham. Why is the patient understanding more easily going to help them anyway? In a case such as this, giving them misguided understanding won't help them do anything about it, you'd be better off discussing surgery options!''

''But if they don't understand their basic condition, how on earth are they supposed to understand the surgical procedure?''

''They don't need to, that's supposed to be your job! As, I remind you, is also to pick up abnormalities when carrying out CT scans! Negligence with an aneurysm this size could have cost my aunt her life, had it not been picked up before-''

The men were interrupted from their bickering by a low moan from Aunty Joan. As they both turned their heads sharply to look at her, the machine monitoring her showed that her blood pressure was non recordable, and began beeping urgently. Martin's scornful face immediately turned to one of terror.

''Get her to theatre. _Now._''

Martin waited. For several hours now he'd sat in this waiting room, pacing, sitting, fidgeting. He'd been in this room many times before, watched different nurses come and go, but now after twelve hours here he'd learned every inch of the room, all cracks in the wall and sat on each of the seats. His aunt had been immediately rushed into surgery, as hurried tests confirmed that her aneurysm had ruptured. Tears pricked Martin's eyes as he tried to think about something else. This was the part of practising medicine he hated – the knowledge of survival statistics, the likely prognosis in particular conditions. This one didn't bear thinking about, so he tried to think about something else. He looked around the room for the hundredth time. Did it seem just a bit more familiar from this angle? Of course. His mind went back, two years ago, sitting in this seat, agonising for hours with Mrs Cronk, Louisa asleep on his shoulder. Then... then he'd messed it all up, as usual. He settled back into the chair, into his memories, because these which were usually so painful were a relief compared to the current alternative. As he immersed himself in thoughts of Louisa, he slowly drifted into sleep.

''Doctor Ellingham?'' Martin's eyes flew open and he immediately came crashing back to reality.

''What's happened?'' he asked. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear the answer.

''Your aunt lost a lot of blood during the operation, and subsequently went into shock. There were a lot more complications than a usual open abdominal operation, so she's gone up to intensive care. However, she is stable.''

A sudden noise caused the entire waiting room to turn; Adrian Pitts looked around to see why his usual group of followers were no longer hanging onto his every word. He blinked at two sights he never expected to see – the great Martin Ellingham breaking down in the middle of a crowded waiting room, and uttering the words:

''Thank you. Thank you.''


	9. Chapter 9

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures**

Chapter Nine

Joan remained in Intensive Care for the next two days. After his initial relief that the surgery had gone well, Martin was still apprehensive. The main surgery had been followed up soon after by a minor blood transfusion, and the consultant kept Martin informed throughout every stage of the process. He was unwilling to leave her in case her condition changed in any way. In his twelve years as a surgeon he'd seen many cases the same as Aunty Joan's – and a high percentage hadn't made it off of his operating table. If he was honest, he was amazed at his aunt's progress and knew that she wasn't out of the woods yet. But she was a fighter, he'd always known that. After two days she was improving well so she was moved to the high dependency ward and he reluctantly returned to the surgery, where a full day of overdue Christmas appointments were waiting for him. The villagers concerned about Joan were left tutting with disapproval as he snarled that he had no time for time wasters. He wanted to get surgery over as quickly as possible so that he could go back and visit Joan. He skipped lunch and spent an hour on the phone to his solicitor.

Mr Thomas Clifford was pleased to hear from Martin – as pleased as his emotional range would allow him anyway. Dr Ellingham only rang with serious cases, ones that were almost certain to succeed, and he stuck to the facts without getting emotional or telling his life story. This was of course the same reason that Martin liked using Mr Clifford – he didn't chat and was a brilliant solicitor. Soon they hung up, Mr Clifford having agreed to take Joan's case. Martin still couldn't bear to think about what would have happened if they hadn't been in hospital when her aneurysm had ruptured – if it had happened at the farm there would have been no chance of getting to the hospital on time.

xxx

Louisa was bored. When the school had broken up for the holidays she'd filled her days preparing for Christmas, having started a bit late this year. Then, after Christmas had been and gone she was left with nothing to fill her days, apart from watching the festive repeats on telly and wandering about London, which was now covered in slippery icy slush. Living in Portwenn all her life, she'd not experienced a proper white Christmas before and it had been quite magical. Now though, it was just cold and annoying. She still lived very close to Holly, so still spent a lot of time attending dreary social events for want of something better to do. _I miss being headmistress, _she thought. There was always something interesting to plan and do, though she didn't miss the paperwork.

So all things considered, when January came around Louisa was much happier. She was no longer feeling so tired and dreary all the time – little bit sick in the mornings, but overall she felt much better. And walking into the playground on the first day of the new term put an automatic smile on her face. What was really bothering her – yet again - was Martin, and how to tell him. She'd have to let people know sooner or later, and good gossip is good gossip no matter where you are. It'd be a conversation best done face to face really, but given the circumstances a phone call would have to do. And soon. Who knew how many contacts Martin had in London – he had to hear it from her.

xxx

Joan was bored. After the first week she'd begun making a rapid recovery, for which Martin was very relieved. He still visited her every day and brought her up to date with the news of Portwenn. He felt uncomfortable at first, what she was asking him was what he'd usually call pointless trivia, bordering on gossip. He was surprised to realise that he knew any, but it was surprising what you picked up from the bored female patients in the waiting room. Personally, he didn't have any interest in the mundane everyday life of the villagers. But Joan seemed interested that Mrs Porter's son had got his first tooth, so he dutifully reported back the new information and let her gush over it. It was a wonder that she'd never had children of her own, but for once he realised that it might not be tactful to ask.

Almost immediately after she was herself again, she began worrying about the farm. _That dratted farm, _he often thought, when it was affecting her recovery. He was glad she was still in hospital, or else she'd be pottering round the chicken coop already. Why couldn't she be like any other 64 year old woman? So, after a week of hints which had failed to register with her thick skinned nephew, she decided to be blunt. A resigned expression appeared on his face.

'Oh, God.'

xxx

'Oh, God!'

Louisa knew from the minute she headed out for playground duty that the pale lilac skirt had been a mistake. The tights underneath weren't doing their job and she was slowly freezing, having given her coat to one of the shivering year two girls. She wrapped her cardigan tight around her, noted happily again the small swelling that only she knew was there, and headed off to deal with a bunch of unruly year six boys.

Now her eyes were filled with panic. It'd been a bit of a boring, typical lesson today – the kids wrote their stories while she marked their maths. She'd not been fond of maths as a child and she didn't like it much now. No fun to teach and even less to mark, as the answers were meant to be all the same. She gladly got up at the end of the lesson and told the children to get into their art project groups. But when she turned to write on the board, the noisy room fell quiet. She turned back, and all the children were staring at her. One of the girls looked scared and raised her hand.

'You're bleeding, Miss.'

'You should go to the medical room.'

At Louisa's alarmed exclamation, the classroom assistant looked at her with friendly disapproval, and suggested she take herself to the toilets. Sitting in the cubicle, Louisa let the tears fall. She didn't care that she'd cursed in front of the six year olds. She didn't care that her skirt was ruined, or that she'd been publicly humiliated. All she cared about was whether she was losing her baby.

'Miss Glasson?'

Sheila had come after her. She liked her classroom assistant, she wasn't snobby like so many of the other staff, and didn't talk down to Louisa with her cut glass accent.'

'Come on, out of there, it doesn't matter. They're only six, they don't understand, and it happens to everybody.'

Louisa recognised the same argument her teacher had used when, aged six, she'd wet herself in class – it was the same one she used now when her pupils had accidents. She felt just as small as she had back then. _Come on, you're a grown woman, you can deal with this. _She emerged from the cubicle; saw her tear streaked face in the mirror.

'With respect Louisa, pull yourself together. It's not that bad.'

'Yes it is!' Louisa saw Sheila recoil in surprise at her outburst. She had a few seconds to decide, and reckoned she could trust the older woman. 'I'm pregnant.' Sheila tried to disguise her shock, and failed.

'I'll tell them you're ill.'

xxx

'It's not my fault! How was I supposed to know? I'm not a farmer! Stop laughing!'

'Come on, Marty – they're chickens, they're small. How hard is it to just grab it?'

'They move! They're vicious!' Martin protested, nursing his bandaged hand.

'Well you are after their eggs, of course they'll try and protect them. Oh, for heaven's sake, I'll be out soon if the tests go well. Just do the vegetables, be careful not to touch the radishes, they won't be ripe yet, their leaves are different to the carrots,'

'Aunty Joan, I'm sure that I'm perfectly capable of picking a few carrots!' Martin snapped, not mentioning the box of radishes he'd obliviously picked that morning.

The next evening he sat with his aunt as she had her CT scan. As he examined the scans afterwards he noted no abnormalities, which meant that she could probably go home in the next few days. As they travelled through the radiography department afterwards, his phone began to ring loudly. Mortified, he began to fumble through his pockets, as a pompous twit started informing him of the phone policies.

'I know the policies!' he snapped as he finally located the phone, opened it and quickly snapped it shut without checking to see who it was. He couldn't understand how he'd forgotten to turn it off; it was something he always did before entering the hospital. He stalked off, ignoring the glares from many of the hospital staff.

xxx

As Joan lay for her CT scan, Louisa was staring at a dark screen, tears of relief and joy in her eyes. It was all okay. She relaxed back on the bed, only just realising that she was tensed all over, and drank in the tiny blob on the screen. Apparently the bleeding was from the cervix, not the placenta. She wasn't exactly sure why that made a difference, but she didn't care because the doctor had said everything was fine.

Walking out of the surgery with a spring in her step, she made a decision. She had to tell him, she was going to do it now, while she was still full of euphoric courage. She dug out her mobile and pressed the number which was still on her speed dial. She was trembling as the ringtone sounded for what felt like hours. _What's taking so long? He always has his phone on him._ Suddenly her heart leapt as the call was answered. Then it plummeted as it was immediately cut off. Confused and sad, she dejectedly walked back home. He didn't even want to speak to her. She'd thought they'd parted amiably – very civilly, still friends. She'd obviously thought wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Ten

'What? Louisa, you're mad.' Louisa winced at the use of her full name. It was true that she'd never really liked people shortening it, especially since Martin had mocked her about it. But Holly had always called her 'Lou' and she knew this meant a lecture was coming.

'Why?'

Holly looked taken aback. Louisa realised that Holly didn't see the significance of what she was saying. Childless and happy about it, Holly believed that her reaction to the news was completely justified.

'I presume it's Dr Delight's? He might be a brilliant doctor but he's an arrogant sod. He's got money I suppose, you'd do okay out of the child support, but it's hardly going to be the idyllic family life you've fantasised about. Face it Louisa, you'll end up like any other single mother in London.'

Throughout that little speech Louisa had been glowering incredulously at her friend, outraged at the insinuation that she only wanted Martin for his money, even more bitter that about half of what Holly had said was true. She'd called Martin back later to find his phone switched off and had taken it as confirmation. He never switched his phone off, even for her. It seemed that now he'd done just that. When it had asked her to leave a message after the tone, she'd simply sighed and rung off.

'I'm thirty seven; it's not going to be an option for much longer. I'm not a child, I can manage.'

'Exactly! You're a grown woman, how on earth did you get yourself into this state?'

'Don't know' Louisa had muttered sullenly. She felt like she was fifteen.

'And it's not like you'll be able to keep that job at Queensgate once it all comes out. It's a reputable school; you'll have the parents up in arms. Look at you, you're already showing.'

Louisa was incensed and decided that enough was enough.

'Okay. Here's where things stand. A. It's illegal for them to even think about sacking me because I'm pregnant and I'll be damned if I'm going to let them try. B. I'm only covering for Mrs Beattie on _her _maternity leave, so they'll only have to put up with me for about three more months, I've already applied to Park Walk comprehensive to start in September. And 3 – no, C, whatever, I am not going to get rid of an innocent child when it might be my last chance to have one just because people like you can't get past their snobby principles!'

Louisa stalked out of Holly's kitchen, absolutely livid. Holly sat in confused, indignant silence, still not quite sure what she'd said wrong.

xxx

'Marty, are you mad?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

Joan had been out of hospital for several weeks now, the test results showed that she was fine and in good health. She was getting much of her mobility back, though she still wasn't allowed to do anything strenuous and had to rest regularly. Martin was still coming to help on the farm every few days, though Joan had taken to leaving instructions out for him to follow since she'd found out just how clueless he was. Until now he'd always come when she was sleeping, but today she was up and sitting on a bench by the chicken coop.

'You can't do farm chores in a suit, Martin – especially in winter. They'll get filthy, they're hardly appropriate. Wear some old clothes next time, for goodness sake.'

'These are old clothes.'

'Don't be obtuse Martin. Do you mean to say that you don't have any casual clothes at all?'

'I don't need them.'

'You are one of a kind, aren't you? Go on, up to the spare room with you. I've still got a few of Phil's old clothes; he was a big man like you.'

'If by big you mean severely overweight then yes, he was a 'big man'!'

'Plenty of room then. Off with you.'

Grumbling under his breath, Martin went up to the spare room. Trying to select the least offensive clothes he could find, he chose a dark blue jumper and dark grey trousers. Hunting for the pockets, he slipped his phone into one of them. Whilst Joan was in hospital he'd taken extra care to turn off the phone, particularly in the radiography department as he knew it could be dangerous. He had been dismayed when he had finally checked it to see the name and photo that appeared on the screen, staring absentmindedly at it and remembering how beautiful she'd looked that day, with her hair loose all down her back.

Personally he thought people who needed photos to remember their friends must have a screw loose, but Louisa had cheekily hijacked it at some point during their engagement. His heart leapt when he saw that a message had been left, however on listening he just heard a faint sigh, message over. She'd clearly decided that what she'd wanted to say was no longer important. In any case, he'd kept his phone on him and switched on at all times once Joan was out of hospital.

He headed down to the vegetable section. He'd got much better at the various tasks over the past week, but Joan clearly wanted to watch over him in any case. He hated to admit that it was a lot easier to work in these clothes as they were much easier to move in. However, she'd also made him change his shoes. Whilst it would be useful not to have to clean his shoes, these borrowed ones felt strange on his feet. He felt self conscious and distracted in these clothes and so didn't take the care he usually would in the slippery chicken run. A bird ran into his legs and he jumped, fell and got himself covered in mud. Joan found it hard to suppress her laughter, and in the end couldn't hold it in. A humiliated Martin headed into the house, and managed to get off the majority of the mud. Then his phone rang.

Heart stopping, Martin grabbed it immediately.

'Ellingham.'

He'd never been so disappointed to hear the irritating drawl of PC Penhale.

'Doc, I think you'd better get here.'

'What's happened?'

'I'm sorry, I can't divulge confidential information to the public until I've carried out the necessary-'

'Penhale! Does somebody need medical attention? If so, tell me. If not, shut up.'

'He's not moving Doc, he hit his head when I apprehended him. We're outside the shop on Fore Street, I've cordoned off the area and-'

Martin hung up the phone and within minutes was driving back to Portwenn. Arriving at the scene, he could see crowds gathered around the yellow 'Crime Scene' tape that was blocking the way. Vehicles on the other side of the blockage were sounding their horns. He got out of the car and strode over. As he did so, the villagers fell silent and stared at him. When he reached the centre of the crowd and passed under the tape, there were a few stifled giggles. He surveyed the scene. Penhale had a teenage boy in handcuffs, and was standing over the unconscious one with his police baton, who was on his side and also handcuffed.

'What happened? Why isn't he in the recovery position?'

'He kind of is, Doc. Just without the arms 'cos I couldn't cuff him otherwise. Constant vigilance, you hear all these stories about-'

'Shut up.'

After assessing the boy who came round and was terrified, he decided that he was in no immediate danger and decided to ask Penhale what the crime was. Five minutes later the road had been unblocked, the boys released and Martin was taking the concussed criminal up to his surgery, after he'd given back the provocative magazine he'd shoplifted.

'Wait there Doc. I'll need to take his name and address so that he can give a statement.'

Martin rolled his eyes.

'His name is Lloyd Williams, he lives over there. As you well know. Excuse me.'

As he led the boy away, a familiar female voice shouted 'Nice trousers, Doc!' and laughter spread through the crowd.


	11. Chapter 11

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Eleven

Martin vomited into one of his trusty sick bags, and got on with the job at hand. One of the local farmers had had an accident with his gardening shears and ended up with a large laceration across his wrist, cutting open his ulnar artery. Once it had been clipped and the ambulance had arrived he drove back to the surgery. Whilst showering, changing his suit and having a glass of water he pondered. Despite the brusque front he put on, he always felt humiliated when his phobia surfaced in front of other people. He often wondered why it affected him so badly – after all, he dealt with it on almost a daily basis and it had never harmed him. Surely he should be used to it by now?

It had never mattered to him so much before, because there was that one non-biased person in the village who had grown to respect him despite the blood thing. He trusted her like he didn't any of the other villagers because he knew that she would no longer laugh behind his back. The fact that she could be trusted meant that he didn't need to worry about the others, because it was clearly their problem and not his. But since the incident where they'd all laughed at his trousers he was insecure again, because he was the outsider again. Even the little brat he'd rescued from Penhale's ridiculous overreaction was sniggering as he was being examined.

He didn't understand. The farmers wandered round the village looking like they'd not washed in days, which was possibly why they couldn't go a week without coming down with some virus or other. But he wasn't allowed to go round with a bit of mud on his trousers. It took him back to his boarding school days. The other boys teased him on the one occasion he got his rugby kit muddy, because usually he hovered on the sidelines and kept it spotless despite the ridiculing from the PE teacher. Just because he chose to stay tidy and be different to the rest of them, he had to stay that way forever.

Even Louisa teased him mildly about always wearing a suit, but he knew that she didn't mind and she respected him anyway. That was what he needed – her respect – because respect from her showed him that he was still worthy of it. _If only I didn't have this dratted phobia, _he thought – then went in to deal with afternoon surgery.

xxx

'Au revoir!'

'Au revoir, miss.'

Louisa sent the children out for playtime and sat down at her desk with her head in her hands, relieved that she wasn't on playground duty this lunchtime. Sheila came over to chat and offered her some chocolate.

'One day wonder. Just keep deflecting the questions, you're doing well. They'll soon be interested in something else.' Louisa groaned, remembering all too well what her old class were like when they wanted information about her personal life.

'I don't understand, didn't they go through this all with Mrs Beattie?'

'No, she was teaching year six. But since they've got their SAT's coming up then the head thought they'd be better off with someone they already knew. So you get to explore unknown territory with year two.'

'Great.' Louisa had had a very tiring few hours. The children had been full of questions about the baby and she had to think very hard to come up with appropriate answers, keep quiet the children who already knew the inappropriate answers, all whilst trying to teach French, which she had been surprised to find was on the curriculum. In Portwenn foreign languages weren't taught until secondary school. But not much was taught that lesson anyway. The friendly headmistress had become cold and disapproving when she'd been told the news. Louisa was now constantly on edge, making sure that they had absolutely no reason to sack her. And that meant no impromptu sex education for the year two class, and following the curriculum to the letter. As they came back in for history, she was determined to get them learning this lesson. Or she could be dismissed for disrupting their learning. How Martin had got away with breaking the rules for so long and been allowed to keep his job, she had no idea.

On returning that evening, Louisa found a card on her doormat. It was an invitation from Holly. She looked at it curiously. She'd been sure that Holly wouldn't want much to do with her any more after her performance, which she was still both proud and ashamed of. But she'd forgotten just how thick skinned her friend was - she was acting as if nothing had happened. She'd mentioned that it was probably down to the hormones, and carried on as usual. Later in the evening Holly had called to confirm she was coming. Usually these parties were painful, or at the very least dull. But this was an art exhibition rather than a party, and Louisa was worn out, so she gave in.

xxx

Smile plastered to his face, he greeted the various superior guests – the high society London elite. He fiddled with his cuff links, which were irritating him. He was glad that the whole formal thing was just for one night – for one thing, they weren't exactly warm. Seeing another pair of guests into the building, he glanced ahead of him to see who the next pair were, and it was a hard task to smile warmly as he recognised the overbearing Holly Williams.

'Hello! _Wonderful _do, I _do_ love Hirst.'

'Holly, delighted you could make it. Alone tonight?'

'Oh no, who do you take me for?' She looked over her shoulder. 'Come on, darling, we're holding people up.'

He waited, intrigued to see which new suave young man she'd have hanging off her arm tonight.

'Sorry, needed the loo,' he heard, as a vision in white suddenly appeared by Holly's side, her eyes widened in shock.

Louisa Glasson.

xxx

'_Danny?'_

'You two know eachother? We must all catch up in a minute, we'll see you inside.'

Louisa was still shell shocked as Holly hustled her into the gallery, where she was met by bizarre colour explosions. She'd never really understood modern art – a lot of this looked like what you got if you let reception loose with the poster paints. She'd much rather look at something nice and soft that was actually of something. Still... Danny. It was all perfectly logical – he did say he was doing some art gallery thing – but she'd never really appreciated his work as he hadn't appreciated hers, which was probably why they didn't work out. She was taken aback by the beautiful white interiors, which she felt were somewhat ruined by the random splashes of colour everywhere. The room was a work of art in itself.

She wandered the galleries for a while, but the mad supposed 'art' was giving her a headache, so she found her way out and sat at a table in a small seating area just outside the main exhibition. Realising that it was a cafe, she ordered a cup of tea and nursed it as she took in what had happened.

xxx

Danny searched the exhibition, which was a slow task as he was constantly stopped by people congratulating him and voicing opinions on the various works. He was already sick to death of them, having looked at them for most of the evening during set-up. He was astonished and a little hurt that after all she'd said, she was in London after all. But the Lord had taught him to forgive, and so he banished any bad feelings and carried on his search for Louisa. He didn't know what she was doing at an exhibition – she'd never understood modern art. That gave him an idea. Rounding a corner, he saw her in a serene white room, alone. She seemed to be in a world of her own, staring into a far corner. He didn't think she had ever looked so beautiful. Her hair was like a rich brown waterfall, the bright lighting making it shine. She was wearing a flattering white dress with a flower corsage pinned to the front, white ribbons flowing down to where her hand was resting...

'Lou?' She jumped and he almost felt guilty for disturbing her.

'Danny.'

'What are you doing here?' They spoke at the same time. Louisa looked amused. 'You first.'

'You- you're, I mean...' He gestured to her stomach as he approached. It wasn't much, but on her usually slim frame it stuck out like a sore thumb for anybody who knew her. Following his gaze, she smiled radiantly, the wide grin that had drawn him to her in the first place.

'Yes.'

'So, who's the lucky guy?' Instantly her smile faded.

'Martin.' Her eyes momentarily blinked away tears. 'It didn't work out.' He looked at her questioningly.

'It's a long story.'

'Well, anything to keep me away from the stuffy old bags in there.' He took her hand as she laughed.

She began to blurt out her story, rambling in places. He began to understand how she had ended up leaving the village she loved – to get away from the man that she clearly still loved. He wasn't sure what she saw in Martin, or how Martin had managed to let such a wonderful woman go.

xxx

'So... here I am.'

As she finished her tale, she realised that she was crying and hastily tried to compose herself. She was glad that she'd run into him, glad that she'd finally come across a proper friend in this impersonal city. She was grateful that he'd taken time from his important evening to listen to her – he was always so considerate. She'd better let him get back. She fixed a brave smile on her face and looked up to meet his dark, familiar, concerned eyes.

'You'd better-'

xxx

She finally met his eyes. The moment seemed to go on forever. She opened her mouth and began to speak. He didn't want her to break the mutual bond of understanding.

He leaned forwards and their lips met.


	12. Chapter 12

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Twelve

Louisa pulled back. Danny had just succeeded in pushing her already scrambled brain to its limit. Dazed and bewildered, she finally managed to regain control of her speech.

'Danny... w- what was that for?'

'I – you were upset, I just wanted to try and make things better... we've got so much history Lou, I never really stopped-' Louisa held up her hands to silence him.

'No, don't say it, don't say it... Danny.' She looked him in the eyes, always a mistake. He looked so wounded; it was like kicking a puppy. She took a deep breath and carried on regardless. 'I want us to stay in touch, I'd love that. But just... not like that.'

'I understand, it's too quick, we need to think and take things slowly.' Louisa felt the immense surge of irritation that always came over her when she was being pressured into something.

'No. You don't get it. I'm having a baby. My head's all over the place and I barely know which way is up. Right now the only thing I want to concentrate on is getting through the next five months, and the last thing on my mind is a relationship.'

She stood and wobbled, drained by the events of the evening.

'I'm done in, I need to go home. I mean it about staying in touch, so here's my number. Think about it.'

On the way home she wondered if she'd handled it right. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, and he was frequently unbearable. _You put up with Holly, _she reasoned to herself. Even unbearable friends were better than no friends at all. And despite being a little overbearing at times, she knew that he was kind and sensitive. Yep – her childhood friend would probably help her get through things a bit better, and somehow always made her feel at home. She hoped she hadn't been too abrupt with him, but she'd just got out of a wonderful mess of a relationship and the last thing she wanted was another one.

After she'd mulled over the events of the evening so much that she was confusing herself, she managed to get through her door and have the best night's sleep in ages.

xxx

Martin finished clearing away his breakfast dishes. He turned off the tap and dried his hands, hearing the familiar sound of the surgery phone, which then stopped. As he walked into his consulting room he heard it start up again, as he called 'First patient!' He sat at his desk and wondered which hypochondriac he had the joy of facing this morning. None came. He headed out into the waiting room and was met by two women with kids bickering about who was to go first, and the phone still ringing. Pauline was nowhere in sight. Growling inwardly and wondering what he paid her for, he randomly selected one of the two patients and headed back into the consulting room to advise on threadworms.

When he headed out an hour later he was extremely confused. It wasn't like her at all, which had surprised him at first. Late, yes. But whilst her cousin had seen the job as a hobby and had taken as many sick days as she could get away with, he couldn't recall Pauline ever having taken a day off.

At ten twenty in a break between patients, she finally hurried into the waiting room, panting from the exertion.

'Where the hell have you been?'

'Sorry Doc, overslept, won't happen again, next patient Mrs Roberts, here's the notes,' she gabbled as she handed over the file, turned on the computer, dumped her bag and answered the phone in the space of ten seconds.

'Portwenn Surgery... Hello?' She replaced the phone. 'No-one there. Probably kids.'

Martin looked closely at her. She was pale and there were shadows under her eyes. Hungover, no doubt.

xxx

'Ben Johnson, get down from there right now! What do you think you're doing?'

'Climbing a tree, miss,' the boy said cheekily, to laughter from his friends.

'Come down Ben, if you fall you'll be badly hurt,' Louisa ordered, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. Ben, having gotten the reaction he wanted, grabbed a branch and prepared to climb down. Louisa watched in horror as the branch snapped and the boy desperately tried to clutch at something before falling from the tree and landing, unconscious. Louisa ran to him, pulling out her phone and dialling as she went.

'Portwenn Surgery.'

Louisa froze for a second, and then was jolted back to the situation. Shaking, she called for an ambulance.

xxx

'Mr Howard's notes, please. Pauline!'

Jumping, she handed them over. Martin eyed her suspiciously as she closed the computer window. Oblivious as he usually was to people's everyday problems, even he could tell that there was something up.

Coming out of the consulting room at lunchtime, he noted that she was absorbed in something on the computer, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Concerned that she was suffering a relapse of her gambling addiction, he headed over to the filing cabinet and glanced over. No, just a medical article. Surprised to see her reading something that might actually be of use, he glanced at the title. 'The Menstrual Cycle,' by P. Bischof. He'd read that particular article himself, and found it most enlightening. Pauline eventually became aware of his presence.

'Do you mind?'

Martin was taken aback at the ferocity in her voice, and headed back in the direction of the consulting room.

'Don't know how people can make any sense of this claptrap anyway,' she grumbled. Martin rolled his eyes. Mystery solved.

xxx

'There you are, I got some cranberry juice in. Now talk.'

'What do you mean?' Louisa knew that she was being deliberately evasive.

'Don't deny it, I saw you canoodling with the architect. Lord knows how you managed it; he'll barely give me the time of day. I know Gabby was after him too, but he's so stuck up. You with someone else's baby as well. No offense Lou, but it's not a desirable situation. Leaving early was good though, I know it's a cliché but playing hard to get does work.'

'I wasn't. Were you spying on me?'

'You weren't exactly being discreet, it was a public gallery. Spill.'

Louisa sighed. 'It was nothing, honestly.' She saw Holly's sceptical look and realised that she wasn't going to get away that easily. 'Okay, fine. He's an old friend. He came from London originally, moved to Portwenn when we were eight. He was one of my best friends – when we got older we were together for a bit. Then after he'd trained in London, he liked it so much that he stayed. I always wanted to teach at my old school, so I headed back to Portwenn and we split up. Then last year he came back and we got back together for a bit. He proposed, actually. But then he said he was going back to do this art gallery job, so we split again and I got together with Martin.'

Holly was listening avidly. 'And last night?'

'Came completely out of the blue. I went to have a sit down and he joined me. He was quite surprised to see me like this, so naturally we caught up. I got a bit emotional, he listened, then he kissed me. I was tired and confused, I just wanted to go home.'

xxx

'I mean, everyone wants kids don't they, it's human nature and all that, but you know, we're not even married yet and Bert'd be a nightmare and I'm still living with Mum and she'd hit the roof and she wouldn't want another sprog under her feet, she swore I'd be the last in her house and-'

'Have you spoken to Al about this?'

During the afternoon Pauline had become progressively more irritable and by the end of surgery patients were hurrying in to see Martin, eager to get away from the atmosphere in the waiting room. After she'd failed to find veins on three separate people, Martin began taking the blood himself, which did nothing to improve his overall mood. As the village slowly got used to Miss Glasson's absence, they noticed that his temper was slowly returning. After the third patient was sent in with the wrong notes, he realised that the surgery would run much more efficiently without Pauline there. So he told her to go home and come back tomorrow.

She'd returned at five thirty as surgery was finishing, and went in to see him about her suspicions.

'No. You know what he's like, completely hopeless, and then Bert'd wriggle it out of him and then before this time tomorrow it'd be round the whole village.'

'I see,' Martin replied, completely understanding her reservations. If you wanted to keep a secret in this village, keeping it away from the Large's was the first step. He checked his watch again and returned to the sink to check on the pregnancy test. He looked back at Pauline.

'It's negative.'

'What? Oh, thank God. Okay, see you tomorrow Doc.' She headed out of the surgery.

'Hang on, wait a-' The door slammed and Martin rolled his eyes.

xxx

'Well you could do a lot worse Lou, and clearly he's infatuated. With all that history too – I say you should go for it. He's well off, and you'll need some support later on.'

'No, I won't. And like I told Danny, I can't deal with a relationship at the moment. End of. I still have the fallout to deal with when Martin finds out he's going to have a baby.'

xxx

The next day Martin saw a marked improvement and there were no major mishaps. _Honestly_, he thought. Why on earth couldn't people just sort out their contraception? It'd save a hell of a lot of time and worry. It's not like it was rocket science. _I've always managed it, _he thought, and called in the next patient.


	13. Chapter 13

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Thirteen

Martin was at a surgical conference in Devon. He had been growing very attached to his GP position, but he was still interested in surgical advances and even more so since Louisa had gone. He found the conference very interesting, but had no desire to endure the dinner afterwards, so headed up to the hotel room. Johnny Bamford spotted him leaving, and caught him on the way out.

'Martin, where are you off to?'

'Bed. You know I don't do these kinds of things.'

'I do, fair enough. Just a quick catch up – what happened with your wedding? Heard it on the grapevine that it didn't go ahead. What went wrong?'

'I don't wish to talk about it.' Johnny knew there wasn't any hope of details, but pressed on anyway.

'Lovely woman she was, I met her a few months back. Teacher, yes? Works at my son's school now. Haven't seen her since, Helen always does the school run. Didn't look too happy though, you might still be in with a chance.' With a wink in Martin's direction, he left. Martin had always been irritated by his arrogance, even more so now. But he found himself intrigued. Louisa had mentioned in her letter that she was going to London, but to hear of her inhabiting his old area was very odd, he couldn't picture it. He'd never been too happy in the expensive yet dull area, and it seemed that she wasn't either. This only proceeded to make him feel even more guilty.

xxx

Over the next few weeks Louisa thought about what she'd said to Holly. It was true that Martin was going to find out at some point, and sooner rather than later would be best. She wasn't as worried about his reaction so much now. However he decided to take the news, it was now too late for an abortion – not that she'd be able to go through with one, no matter what he said. She already loved the baby more than she thought was possible, excited when she felt it's tiny twitches. She'd been a little worried that she something might go wrong because of her age – though she'd been affronted when the woman at the clinic had referred to her as 'geriatric'. She still wasn't quite used to it; she understood the principle but thought that there must be a nicer term, especially as she wasn't even forty yet.

So now that those worries had been reassured, she was worrying about Martin again. She had been put off by the fact that he had previously hung up on her, and then had turned his phone off. And she was still scared of rejection if she did pluck up the courage to call. She told herself that it would just be one more heartache in a long series, that then it'd be truly finished and she could move on. But the fact remained that Martin still had the power to hurt her more than anyone else. She could hear his voice now, being reasonable and spouting statistics. Sometimes she just needed him to let her be unreasonable, but he never did, which made her angry and then more unreasonable.

She was angry at the moment that he wouldn't let her speak to him. He wasn't the only important person she'd left behind and there were some good friends in Portwenn who she knew would be hurt if she didn't get in touch. But it wouldn't be fair if he was the last in the village to find out, so she kept quiet. _Why am I still thinking about what's best for him? _Despite her fears of rejection, she felt that they were probably irrational because she knew he was a good man. He'd probably try and take on his new responsibilities no matter what he felt. She knew from teaching that it was better for kids to have a father around. But she knew from Martin that it was worse to have a father around who didn't want you.

xxx

Pauline left her desk and went to collect the post which had just dropped onto the doormat. She sifted through it, one piece catching her eye. It was a black envelope with a handwritten address in silver pen.

'I'll take that,' Martin said, plucking the post out of her hands. He too was drawn to the strange card.

'What's that then? Looks personal. Bit gloomy though. Maybe they personalised them?'

Martin glared at her and headed into the consulting room to open it. The card inside was also black, with a black and white photo of a candle on the front. Inside, written in the same silver pen it read:

'_In Memorial – Ben, a beloved friend to many who sadly passed away in a car accident on February 20__th__ 2009. A service is to be held at 6 Roscarrock Hill on February 28__th__ 2009 at 6pm.'_

Martin looked at the card, surprised. He didn't know anybody named Ben. And surely if there had been a fatal car accident he would have been called to the scene. He checked with Pauline and she hadn't a clue either. He recognised the address was nearby, so headed up the hill to find out.

The door opened to reveal a small elderly lady.

'Oh, hello Dr Ellingham. Is this about the memorial? I know we don't exactly know you well, but Ben was ever so fond of you and I'm sure he'd have liked you to be there.'

'I'm sorry – who's Ben?'

'Our mongrel. Poor thing, it was so devastating when they called...'

'Hang on – Ben's a _dog?'_

'The whole village loved him.' A man had appeared by his wife.

'Sorry Dr Ellingham, it's a bit upsetting for Diane, we'll see you on Tuesday.' Martin headed back to the surgery, muttering about people who didn't keep their dogs under control. Pauline looked up as he entered.

'So, who's Ben?'

'A _dog_,' he spat incredulously. Pauline looked devastated, as did several patients.

'Not our dog?'

'No, not our dog. The Harris' dog, though you'd never know it from the amount of time it spent in here.'

'Oh no! Are you going to the funeral?' The patients all looked at him, one of them in tears.

'It's a dog. Who has a funeral for a dog?'

One of the patients replied.

'He wasn't just any old dog. It was like he belonged to all of us, he used to sit in my fish shop. Didn't know who he belonged to. Poor old Ben.

Martin snorted and headed into the consulting room, wondering if they'd all taken leave of their senses.

xxx

'It's mad. At least three of the women I met tonight were Miss, and two of them still looked down their noses at me. It's worse since that stupid boy fell out of the tree, now they think I'm bloody inadequate as well as a bad influence. Of course it couldn't be his fault, could it? The kids in Portwenn never behaved like that, it's ridiculous. Just because –' At this Louisa groaned and sat down with her head in her hands. 'Sorry, rant over.' She looked apologetically at Danny.

Louisa had just returned from Parent's Evening, and felt thoroughly humiliated. Clearly five months pregnant with a little plaque on her table reading 'Miss L Glasson', she'd received hostile looks from at least half of the parents. She wasn't sure how it mattered anyway in this day and age, but it was beginning to make her hate her job. She couldn't wait for September, when she'd be able to transfer to the local comprehensive. She was often appalled at the behaviour within the school, and the cold smiles and obvious gossiping in the staffroom were enough to keep her in her classroom at break times. Yet she was sticking at it. If there was one thing Martin had learnt about her, it was that she had a stubborn streak that couldn't be shifted. If you tried to tell her otherwise she dug her heels in even more, and if she felt strongly enough about something she'd stick it through right to the end. And that was absolutely what she was determined to do.

Of course, she couldn't really moan about this to Holly – their schools were closely linked and her head was one of Holly's best friends. So when Danny had rung and asked to meet up, she'd accepted. He'd asked how her day had been, which she was sure he regretted by now.

'And one of Martin's old friends was there, his son's in my class. Pleasant man actually. Obviously he was dead surprised to see me and even more surprised that Martin didn't know, made me feel quite guilty actually.'

'Hey, I'm sure you've got your reasons, you said he wasn't answering your calls anyway.'

Louisa smiled. It made a nice change for someone to say the nice thing for once.

xxx

Martin was looking over some papers when he saw the familiar sight of Joan at the window with a new cloth covered dish. She seemed to think he needed feeding up. He acknowledged her and went round into the kitchen.

'So,' she started without her usual pleasantries. 'I heard about the dog.'

'Yes.'

'Are you going to the memorial?'

'No.'

'For goodness sake Martin, don't you have any respect for people?'

'What is it with people in this village? It's a dog. Next thing you know I'll be up in court for persecuting innocent bacteria!'

'Okay, maybe not the dog, but you weren't at the funeral for poor old John Cleary either.'

'I barely knew the man.'

'Martin, do you want to end up like your father?'

Martin looked up sharply. They were both shocked.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Look, I'll leave you to it.'

After she'd gone Martin sat down at the table. Little did his aunt know just how much her words had affected him. He knew that she must have been very serious to even think about bringing Christopher up in conversation. He didn't like to think about his father, but from what he heard he had conned his way into some deal or another and was now living in a nice house surrounded by nice possessions. Alone. Christopher Ellingham had ended up alone, with no wife, no children and friends who were only in it for the connections. He realised that the last thing on earth he wanted was to end up like his father.

He remembered what Louisa had said in her letter. Not the one she'd successfully left before leaving for London – the first one. He'd not had a chance to read it straight away, but when he remembered it he'd read the neat lines over and over until he had committed them to memory.

_Martin. _

_I know what I've done is despicable and you'll probably hate me now. But we're just too different and I don't want to force you to be something you're not. I know that you don't want children, and I respect that. But it's one difference between us that's just too big to ignore. I love you, and I'm so, so sorry._

_Louisa_

He had been devastated that she'd made those assumptions, but until he'd read the letter he thought that that was what he'd wanted too. But then he'd realised that what he wanted most was for him to make Louisa happy, and if that meant children then that would make him happy too. He realised that he was tearing up at the memories and at Joan's words.

'Doc! Greg Formby cut himself on a glass, it's bleeding everywhere!'

Martin retched involuntarily. He saw himself as he thought others would see him. Pathetic, grumpy old loner, can't even deal with blood. _Sod this, _he thought as he went to grab his medical bag and deal with the casualty.

He was going to deal with the phobia, get back to London, and find Louisa. Before it was too late.


	14. Chapter 14

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Fourteen

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5..._ Getting over the blood phobia was proving much more difficult in theory than in practice. Having been facing it for three years with no improvement, Martin was at a loss of where to start. He had decided to start off small. After all, blood never bothered him if it was where it belonged i.e. flowing around the circulatory system. He had no problem checking for pulses and feeling the blood beating below his fingertips_. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10... _Nor did he mind when presented with scabs or healed wounds. When contained, he wasn't so bothered. So he decided that he should try and build on that.

He began a morning ritual. Patient blood samples were simply sat in test tube racks in Pauline's phlebotomy room. Aside from the labels on the tubes there was no evidence of any sort of system, but there was rarely a problem so he simply left her to it. _11, 12, 13, 14, 15..._ On his way to the kitchen he picked one up, drew out a chair and simply looked at the tube on the table. For twenty seconds every morning, he looked at it. Providing that he hadn't needed to sit down or vomit before the time was up, of course. The results were varied. Sometimes it was ten seconds, sometimes seventeen, sometimes just the first glance had him heaving. _16, 17, 18, 19... 20!_ One morning he had succeeded the entire twenty seconds. In fact, it had been longer than that as he allowed a rare smile of pride to appear. Until Pauline had burst through the front door, breaking the concentration and sending him retching to the sink. Replacing the tube in the rack one morning before going into the consultation room with some water, he sighed. He'd briefly toyed with studying diagrams, pictures, but they didn't affect him. They weren't real. Aside from looking at it every morning, he'd given Pauline the afternoon off one day last week. Confused but eager, she'd headed off before he could change his mind, leaving him alone to deal with the blood all afternoon. He was ashamed to discover that the staring technique had done nothing – he still could not even face the sight of blood in the presence of others.

He was dismayed. He had known that it wouldn't be easy, but he wasn't even out of the starting gate. He was starting right at the bottom, yet he was still failing. He tried not to be discouraged, forcing himself to remember his ultimate goal.

xxx

_491, 492, 493, 494, 495, 496, 497, 498, 499, 500. _Louisa turned over yet again. She pulled her hand out from underneath her and pulled her hair away from her face. Brought it back down. Used it to scratch her arms. Crossed them both across her chest. Wrapped them around her belly. Folded her hands under her head. Turned onto her back. No, that felt weird. She'd always slept on her side. Giving up, she opened her eyes and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp and looking round the room. She squinted past the sudden light at the clock. 2:15 am. She groaned inwardly as she folded her arms around her tummy and sighed at it.

'You little nuisance,' she scolded, her smile giving her away as she stroked it and it wriggled. 'Don't think you can get round me like that.' She headed across the room and put the kettle on, hoping that something warm would get her off.

Ugh. She wished that she'd brought her alarm with her instead of putting it into storage. Its soft tune had woken her up gradually for years, unlike this new jarring one. She leaned over and hit it with ferocity. She was particularly irritated because it was Saturday, and there was no school. Actually, there was - it was the Easter fair. But the head had shown 'concern' for her standing around in the heat in her condition, and she had taken the not-so-subtle hint. Standing up for herself at work was fine, but she wasn't planning to waste her own time being sneered at. Instead she was heading off to an antenatal appointment at the stupid time of nine thirty. _Never again, _she thought as she waited for the tea to sink in and disperse her bad mood. In the future, she'd stick to afternoon appointments.

'Tired?' the nurse asked sympathetically as she'd sat down and yawned.

'Just a bit, I'm not sleeping well. I didn't get off until three last night.'

'It can be tricky with baby getting in the way, you could use pillows to support you wherever it's uncomfortable. Do you eat around bedtime?'

'Usually I have my dinner around nine-ish, part of my routine.' She watched like a hawk as the nurse began preparing the syringe for her blood test.

'Food might not be advisable too late at night, if your body's buzzing away digesting, it won't want to switch off.' Louisa was finding the woman's patronising manner intensely irritating now, especially since she was also bringing back certain memories and causing quite a painful lump in the throat. So he'd been right after all – wasn't he always? She'd thought it peculiar at the time but worded like this, it did make sense. Which was more irritating, since she was being spoken to like a child.

'Try for around half seven, see if that helps you sleep better.'

Louisa winced as the needle pierced her skin. As a child, she'd been taken to the house of one of her father's friends. Knowing him, he was probably just making dodgy money, but the others in the house were injecting drugs of some sort. Aged just six, she'd witnessed one of the men die of an overdose. This had led to nightmares for at least a year, and to her being terrified of needles.

As she got older her fear lessened as she learned that not all needles were bad, and all of the regular blood tests in recent years had helped – she wasn't going to show people that she was scared, especially not Martin after she hadn't been entirely supportive about his blood thing. But now that her old emotions and memories were so close to the surface, it was hard to stop the old fears from coming back too. She'd unwittingly tensed up as the syringe came close, which made it hurt more.

'Okay.'

The midwife noticed the slight change in pitch. 'Hey, don't worry, we all get a bit teary occasionally. It won't help that you're tired. You know what they say – three months dreary, three months cheery, three months weary. You're a first timer so it's probably just a shock to the system.'

_What a stupid saying, _Louisa thought. She was used to her medical professionals being abrupt and straight to the point, not spouting off clichés and making the appointment last twice as long.

Waking up the next morning after ten hours of sleep, she lay for a minute and cursed Martin for being right all the time.

xxx

'Hi Pauline.'

'Hi Mrs Winters, are you okay? Your Jimmy not having trouble with his throat again is he, your appointment isn't till next Thursday.'

'No actually – we'd like to change practices and weren't sure how to go about it, he was quite upset yesterday. It's hardly his fault he was born with tonsils that don't work now is it?'

Martin had come into the waiting room. 'They did work when they were supposed to. Now they're finished, they serve no more purpose to your son, and that is why we removed them. What's the new doctor going to do? Stick them back on? Next patient.'

'Mr Hartford! Sorry about that Mrs Winters, don't know what's got into him lately. If you'll just fill in this form, we'll send it to Wadebridge with all your notes. You'll have to make another appointment there to get him checked over or whatever. See you later, then.'

Portwenn Surgery had just lost its first three patients in nearly six months. All of the villagers were confused as to what had brought about this sudden change. The truth was just the same culture shock they'd experienced when he first arrived. In the past months he'd been quiet and compliant, just your average grumpy doctor. Now he had a new purpose to his life, he was his old impatient self, unwilling to deal with whingers that would waste his time. It wasn't like he had forever – Louisa was a beautiful woman. While he marvelled at how stupid the villagers must have been not to notice this, he knew that wouldn't be true in London.

That was why he was so impatient about the stupid phobia, which was still refusing to budge. He couldn't show up in London until he'd got over it, he knew this. He'd moved to Portwenn initially because it was a small village with a small practise, not as much blood to deal with, less accidents and no surgery required. How wrong he had been. However he'd begun to like it here, and had to admit that larger towns wouldn't have been so accepting of his phobia and recognise his competence despite it. In London with so many skilled medics on hand, he wouldn't even be able to get a job as a GP, let alone surgery. He imagined the scorn facing him from fellow surgeons if he returned to his old area unable to operate. He couldn't give a toss if the villagers didn't want to come to him – soon they wouldn't be able to anyway.

xxx

'Wow. I mean, seriously wow. That twist at the end... brilliant.'

'And don't be so quick to dismiss chick flicks next time, Mr.'

'Hey, you're a woman. Just because you're genetically programmed to like this stuff...'

Louisa slapped her palm to her forehead. He never did know when to shut up, when he'd just been well and truly proved wrong. And more infuriatingly, when he did then carry on arguing he always either played the religious card or the sexism card, as if being a believer and a man immediately made him know best.

'Says the man who plucks his eyebrows.'

'You do too!'

Louisa looked at him in disbelief.

'Give it up, Danny! I'll see you next week.' She got up to show him out.

'Are you alright?' Danny got up from the sofa and gripped her arm as she blinked, swaying slightly.

'Yeah, fine. Head rush. '

'You sure? You've got another appointment tomorrow evening, haven't you?'

'Seriously, that's normal for me even when I'm not pregnant. I've been laying down for ages, my blood just needs to settle.'

'You don't need to show me out every time you know. You can see the door from the bed anyway - it's like my old playhouse in here.' Louisa put on a defiant expression.

'Sod off, Danny.' She was finding that more and more of his annoying habits were surfacing recently. Or maybe it was her – everything seemed to be irritating her lately. Martin always said it was hormones. He was probably right about that too – she'd never admitted to him that his predictions about her periods were always surprisingly accurate. But whatever it was, she knew her place was tiny, she just didn't need it pointed out to her. She'd done her research and figured out exactly how long she could get away with staying here, though it'd probably do her head in once the baby was born. By the time they would need more space she should have enough saved for a small flat, and she could always sell her cottage in Portwenn if she got desperate, though that was a last resort and only really an option because she was being realistic. She was always determined to face the facts in any situation because her dad had always stuck his head in the sand and taught her exactly where that got you – in his case, jail. At any rate, this place was so small and cheap that it was definitely the most economic place to stay for now.

After about twenty minutes of daydreaming, she was brought back to reality by a large kick against her hand. She realised she was doing it again – Holly had observed that when she was particularly stressed she tended to rapidly tap the side of her bump for comfort and had found it very amusing when the baby kicked back, causing Louisa to jump. She still wasn't used to the whole kicking thing. She moved away from where she'd been leaning against the doorframe and began to get ready for bed. Despite the long sleep she'd gotten the night before, she was still shattered and she had school the next day.

xxx

Martin was stepping up his campaign to beat the phobia. Having established that the observation method wasn't really working, he went to the butcher and got a large piece of liver to dissect. Unfortunately he'd not really thought about transporting it, and so had attracted the attention of what seemed like the entire local dog population. He thought after the last one died he was safe, but it turned out they were everywhere. In hindsight he saw that it probably would have been better to wait to cut into the liver, as he was still uneasy from being effectively chased. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was also slightly phobic of dogs. He'd been bitten once when he was thirteen and had insisted that Joan took him to get a tetanus injection immediately, but he had no desire after that to be around things that caused you pain and were unhygienic with it.

He also spoke to Chris Parsons about returning to surgery. Enough was enough – if he had a set time limit then he would have no choice but to sort himself out somehow. He didn't have to like it; he just had to tolerate it. He had meant it when he said that there was nothing left for him in Portwenn. He would miss his aunt of course, but he could always visit. Bert had been right –there was now a piece missing and that piece was in London. His resolve had never been stronger, especially when blood from a cut began seeping through his bandaged hand and had affected him so badly.

His whole mind and body was focussed towards leaving for London. But as he looked up into the familiar face of Edith Montgomery, everything changed in an instant.

xxx

Louisa looked up, her face like thunder. It was a horribly rainy day and the children were in for wet play. Out came the board games, the Lego, the match up cards and colouring pencils. She'd yelled for quiet at least three times. She knew they were sick of being cooped up, but they were doing her head in, and she still had four hours left to go before navigating the London bus system in the rain. Then she caught sight of Amelia and Jessica fighting over one of the books. Either the book would be damaged or someone would be hurt. As she shot up from her chair and stormed out from behind her desk, the children noticed and watched her warily.

Making her way across the room, she felt her head throb in the familiar way and her vision blurred. She shouldn't have got up so fast, now she had to stop and wait for it to go away.

Only this time, it wasn't.

The children were all silent now, their fear turned to confusion. One minute she'd been heading through the classroom like an angry bull, now she was just standing there with her eyes shut. They watched as she wavered, began to lose her balance, and then they heard the loud crash as her head connected with a nearby table.

Her head exploded with pain for a few seconds, and then the pain was gone and everything went black.

The first screams began as several children ran for help and the rest stared anxiously at the lifeless body of their teacher.


	15. Chapter 15

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures**

Chapter Fifteen

'Ellingham?'

'Edith...' He was confused. Firstly about her being there, secondly – why had she called him Ellingham? No 'Dr', just Ellingham. She'd always called him Martin, but he supposed things must have changed in the last twenty years. He was impressed at her ability to be formal even when surprised. Still, he wasn't about to start calling her 'Montgomery' - if that was still her name. That would just sound daft.

xxx

He looked different. The eyes were the same old blue, new wrinkles though. Same old formal clothing. His hair had never exactly been long, but now it was viciously cut and the blonde had dulled to a dark grey.

Then he gagged. Still the same old weak Ellingham then. She'd heard that he was good, brilliant even, with appalling social skills and a rumoured blood phobia. Still hiding behind an obnoxious shell, with the same spineless little man inside it. Oh well – she'd fixed him once, she could sort him out again.

xxx

Martin stared. She looked so different, but her face was the same. A little older, but the same small features and bright eyes. The same picture in a different frame. The same flame red hair. It had always been long and feminine as he preferred women's hair to be, lying in a thin plait down her back. It was now shorn and teased into bizarre little flicks that somehow defied gravity.

Different clothes too – the old pastel blouses with smart dark polo neck jumpers had been replaced by a waistcoat, of all things. Why on earth would she want to dress like a man? All things considered, she looked not unlike a circus ringleader. Still, he could tell she was the same sharp, obnoxious creature inside, throwing out sarcasm as easily as she ever had.

A bit like him actually. Everyone had always said that they were alike, and he didn't like the realisation. That's where he'd gone wrong with Louisa. She didn't want to get too close to him because she'd only get hurt when he inevitably insulted her. He'd dealt with Edith before and been crushed. He only hoped that whatever had drawn him to her the first time was past, as he had no desire to feel like that again. He thought it would probably finish him, and again felt stronger about his mission to return to Louisa.

xxx

The first sensation she was aware of was pain. It pounded throughout her head, roared in her ears and overtook all other senses. What was happening? Was her baby okay? She tried to piece together what was going on as best as she could. She was moving along, in a vehicle. She tried to focus on what was going on around her. Sirens. She must be in an ambulance. Was she badly hurt? It certainly felt like it. Suddenly whatever she was lying on jerked. She winced, and heard someone saying her name. She tried to say something, to open her eyes, but she couldn't. She couldn't move, and she started to panic. What had happened to her? Her overriding fear was for her child, her baby. Baby... that's what the voice had just said, the one that was constantly talking to her. What were they saying? She caught a few words – _heartbeat... worry... cold... _her panic was escalating, she was confused and disorientated. _Here we go..._ here what goes? Then she felt it, the now familiar cold on her tummy, the instrument prodding into the skin... the indignant kick against the disturbance. Her heart leapt, her fears lessened. As she heard the mystery voice again saying _all fine,_ she allowed herself to give in to the inviting sleep she'd been resisting.

xxx

'Louisa... Louisa?'

She tried to speak, but she was dehydrated and she wasn't sure the words made any sense.

'Can you tell me what happened?'

Of course, she must have passed out again. The knowledge didn't alarm her too much anymore - she just hoped there wasn't too much of a crowd gathered.

'Martin...' She opened her eyes. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the light and the image came into focus, she was confused. She appeared to be in hospital.

'You're not Martin.' Where was he? He was always so concerned about his patients and she wasn't any old patient – she was his fiancée. He'd definitely follow her to the hospital.

'My name is Dr Hooper. You had a fall. Don't worry; you and your baby are fine.'

Baby...? Baby! Her arms scrambled to find her belly and make sure he was telling the truth, a few movements reassured her that he was. In that instant she had remembered everything, the wedding, the baby, the scandal, the reason why Martin was 200 miles away instead of at her bedside. She burst into tears. After she had calmed down he asked her some standard questions – some she knew and some she didn't, which scared her and she began to cry again. The doctor summoned a nurse nearby.

'She's concussed. Check her over and make sure she gets some sleep.'

xxx

'Do they pay you in chickens?'

Martin seethed inside. There it was again, that casual rejection of another element of his life. He attempted to lock up his feelings, to carry on his end of the conversation. Luckily he was practised in this. He knew too well that she scorned people who couldn't take what others said to them – she had never cared about what others thought about her. Yet again she'd hurt him.

When he'd left the hospital yesterday his determined feelings weakened and he began to feel apprehensive. He'd not slept well the night before. He'd forgotten the other half of the reason for the non wedding – that _she_ didn't want it either. Old memories were coming back to him. Driving to Heathrow airport, carrying suitcases to the luggage carousel. Waiting in the car, until he saw Flight CO 3440 leave the country, taking Edith away with it. Then more recently, sitting in a dark, rain splattered car, watching helplessly out the window at Louisa's face, framed in the light of the doorway before it closed on him. She'd done it twice now – what's to say she wouldn't do it again? He would be taking a huge risk turning up when she could already be with someone else. But he couldn't just sit here and do nothing. He hoped that conquering the phobia would be a big enough gesture, to prove to her that he needed her. And if not... he'd take that day when it came.

Spontaneity had worked before. Admittedly there was more of a gap this time, but in experience it had worked better than planning.

_1989 _- He was sat on a plush sofa in a hotel, running his hands through her hair. A glass of champagne had steadied his nerves, and he finally got up the courage to say it. The silence afterwards was unbearable.

'Are you drunk?'

In the days afterwards, their relationship was awkward, as it was clear they had very different feelings. It broke things up, and there was a feeling of relief on both sides when a year later she left for Canada. He swore after that never to drink again – aside from the appalling effect on the liver, no-one took you seriously when you had alcohol in your system.

The second time, there had been no need, the sudden rush of adrenaline had given him all the courage he needed. As he swept her into his arms, he still couldn't quite believe that she'd said yes, that she would marry him, that after all he'd done and said, how different they were, she still loved him. In some ways, it made it worse that she'd agreed. To have all that taken away, to know that she'd spent time with him, seen the real him, realised the mistake she'd made. Yet he was still clinging onto one of her final sentences. _It says I love you, and I really do. _Because that was the key. Two proposals, two different answers, two rejections. But in only one had he been prepared to make so many changes for, because only one of them was really love.

xxx

'We've done some tests, and we've established that there are no fractures and no permanent damage. Blood test results showed that you've developed a form of anaemia. You say you have a history of it?'

Louisa had just woken again, and apparently the concussion was gone – she felt more herself, anyway.

'Yeah, it went away about seven months ago. I've been feeling tired and dizzy recently, but the midwife said it was normal.'

'Pregnancy can often bring back recurrent anaemia, or cause it in those with no previous history. Surely you recognised the signs? In any case you should have been eating an iron rich diet which would have prevented your fall. When you leave, make sure you eat plenty of the right foods, and hopefully we won't see you in here next time you bang your head.'

Louisa was annoyed, both with the doctor and herself. Yes, she should have been eating better, but she really didn't need a lecture right now. The doctor was treating her with a slight contempt, as if she was wasting his time and shouldn't have been stupid enough to pass out. Martin lectured her about her health but he'd never implied that being anaemic was her fault; in fact he'd been very caring when she'd collapsed last time. The doctors here were all in a hurry and she still wasn't entirely reassured.

'Fill in this form, please.' On that, the doctor left and she began writing.

_Name, Address, Contact Number, Next of kin._

Louisa stopped filling in the form and put down the pen. She'd missed her friends the whole time she'd been in London, but only now had the intense loneliness fully hit her. Next of kin. She didn't have a next of kin. No partner. No siblings. No children (not ones contactable in an emergency anyway). Dad was in jail, Mum hadn't been seen since 1978. It was now that she realised she couldn't even put down her friends, because she didn't have any that would drop everything to help her. For practical purposes, she was alone.

For the next day she had a miserable stay in hospital. She was tired, ill and lonely. She'd rather be in bed back at her place where she could at least make herself a decent cup of tea, but she had to stay in for a day as there was no-one to watch her for changes. Bert would have done it. Since her Dad had gone to prison for the first time he had become something of a father figure. She remembered him babysitting her when she was about ten. Looking back she realised it was probably as useful for him as for Terry, as Louisa could take care of herself and was more than happy to play peek-a-boo with baby Al for hours on end while Bert planned his next moneymaking scheme.

Now she knew exactly what was missing in her life. It wasn't the beautiful coastline, fresh air or rolling hills. It wasn't the school full of happy, carefree and mainly pleasant pupils. It was the security that a city full of isolated people had taken away. The knowledge that whatever happened she would have help, a safety net, a village full of warm hearted people – most of whom in some way had contributed to her upbringing. She wanted someone to take care of her – Martin had made it clear that he didn't want to be with her but he'd be close by in a medical emergency and she knew he wouldn't neglect his duty.

Now it was clear to her. She had to stop being so stubborn, to stop caring what other people thought. She had to stop putting Martin first because now she had someone else more important in her life than even him. Screw what the school thought, she was miserable there and didn't care if they'd won. She had to go back to her village, to her family. She had to go back to where she had the best support, to where her baby could get the best possible opportunities. Martin was going to know whether he wanted to or not, and if not then it'd just be one more heartache in a line of many, but she'd get over it. She had to admit that the idea of giving birth alone in some London hospital, possibly for hours, was terrifying. Actually, it'd be terrifying wherever it happened, but she was trying not to dwell on that, and afterwards she'd have her baby, the one she'd wanted for years.

She was going back to Portwenn, for both of their sakes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.**

**Note: I was originally going to leave it here as it says in the description, but couldn't resist writing a tiny bit more so there will be one more chapter.**

Chapter Sixteen

'What? What do you mean?'

'I- I don't know anymore. I'm just so... tired and fed up of it all.'

Louisa was sitting cross legged on her bed, facing Danny on the sofa. She'd been discharged from hospital that morning after a long time to think, but even now she couldn't find the words to explain what she was feeling inside, why she had to go back.

'That's only because you aren't well yet.'

'It's not that, it's Portwenn. It's all my friends, my family really.'

'It's Martin.' Danny was one of Louisa's first proper friends, and also a very shrewd man. He had always been able to see right through her, and in any case she wasn't very good at hiding her feelings.

'No, really. It's everyone there, the support network, they'll be annoyed as it is that I didn't tell them.'

'Phone them. And as for support, where will you live? You won't have a job. It'll hardly be good for the baby. I can help you, you've got Holly, we're your friends.'

'I know, and you've been lovely, I'm really grateful. But that's my life there, that I just ran away from, and I have to sort it out. Martin has to know about his baby some time or another; it'd be despicable to keep it from him.'

'It's always him, always Martin. Hasn't he made it clear enough for you to see that he doesn't care?'

Louisa stared. Her heart grew cold. She'd spent nights crying over this fact, and there weren't many waking moments when it wasn't at the front of her mind. But this was like a slap in the face. For one of her 'friends', her forgiving, God fearing friend to throw it at her so cruelly... it took her right back to their break ups, and she couldn't believe that after all these times, she was still letting him weasel his way back in and upset her.

'I think you'd better go.'

'What?'

'Go.' She wasn't wasting her breath explaining herself to him anymore.

He knew that face, he knew it was a lost cause. Why could she never see what was good for her? He sighed as he walked out of her life, and gave her another reason to go back to Portwenn. Again, the split had been so quick, so cold and again she found herself uncaring.

She quickly got on the phone to the hospital. She was going to set things in motion as soon as possible, she wanted to be gone tomorrow. She picked up her phone and dialled the hospital, then got her phonebook and looked up the number for Truro hospital. As she made the call and arranged to fill out the appropriate paperwork before she left, she sighed sadly. She'd been going to Portwenn Surgery for all her life, and she liked the cosy little rooms, rooms where she'd always been made to feel better, rooms where she'd spent one wonderful night in the arms of the man she loved.

She looked down as she thought of what else they'd got up to that evening, and wondered if that time had been the fateful one. Yes, she was definitely doing the right thing. If the worst came to the worst and things did go horribly wrong with Martin, being his patient would not only be awkward but also horribly embarrassing. Even if it went well, she cringed at the thought of Martin doing an internal. He'd be all blustery and professional. It was probably best for practical reasons too – she'd have to go to Truro for her antenatal scans anyway, it'd be easier to get it all done in one trip.

Despite his departure, one part of her last conversation with Danny was playing in her ears. Where _was _she going to live? What _would _she do for a job? She'd appointed the new head herself before she left, he seemed perfectly competent and not likely to leave in a hurry. She tried to turn off the practical part of her mind. Sometimes you just had to think 'sod it' and be spontaneous. If Martin hadn't had that bizarre epiphany six months ago, she wouldn't be here now. They'd probably still be plodding along awkwardly. And despite all the pain it had caused her, she knew she wouldn't have it any other way, and knew she was doing the right thing. She slept happily that night, knowing that this time tomorrow she'd be back home.

xxx

Martin was preoccupied with filling in some forms. Really, he thought – was family life all it was cracked up to be? Of all the families he'd seen over the years all had had problems, primarily his own. He'd seen affairs going on left, right and centre, and that was just the start of it. Louisa and her father. Pauline and her mother, Pauline and her brother – though he could see the common denominator there. And now, the Tishells. He'd had no idea there was a husband around. She'd never mentioned him which was surprising, she seemed keen to discuss every other mundane section of her life with everyone. Though maybe not so surprising, as Mrs Tishell was an appauling actor and clearly couldn't stand him. He couldn't understand how they'd managed to be married for so long. He stopped himself, confused. Why was he using them as an example of marriage? They were clearly both batty; he wouldn't want to be married to either of them.

He supposed he had Joan and Phil to thank for the small amount of faith he still had. He hadn't seen many couples as close as they were, inseparable, and he'd also seen the love she'd had for John. There was the truth in marriage – by the time you found the one you loved with all your heart, they'd only go and die on you. Yet still you'd have the memories, and Joan seemed happy enough. He headed into the kitchen knowing that he was doing the right thing.

xxx

Berkshire, Wiltshire, Somerset, Devon... Louisa stared out of the windows of the train at the various hills and winding roads through the beautiful English countryside, not really taking it all in. Again she was incredibly tired, more so than last time, but she didn't let herself sleep. The journey seemed to be taking days. She was emotional, but with an incredible sense of happiness this time. Before she had nothing, she was leaving behind all she'd ever known and was desperately upset. This time she was going home, home to her family, home to more family, because this was the place where she would bring up her baby. She hoped that he or she would love their birthplace as much as she did. She intended to give them all the love she'd had while growing up and more, but without the disappointment and broken promises. She admitted that apart from the criminal side of things, Terry Glasson would be a pretty good grandparent – loving, good with kids, with no responsibilities. But she wasn't prepared to take the risk of contacting him and have him potentially ruin things again. She knew Joan would be more than happy to make up for the four missing actual grandparents. She recalled one night of her short engagement. She'd been cuddled up with Martin on his sofa during one of his rare uninterrupted evenings, and he'd shared with her the terrible tales from his childhood, and his parents' recent visit. While she felt privileged that he was confiding in her, she'd cried that evening. She still just couldn't believe that a parent could neglect their child so cruelly. She cradled her arms protectively around her swollen stomach, noting again just how big it really was. The villagers were certainly in for a shock, not to mention Martin. The train stopped.

She told herself not to have expectations, that there would be outcry and it wasn't going to be easy. She wasn't going to pressure him, but she was going up there immediately. She planned to stay at the pub, which would be busy at this time of the evening. It wouldn't be at all fair to let him hear it from someone else. Lost deep in thought, she glanced up and her heart soared as she saw the sign for Bodmin. As the taxi drove through the various fields and finally drove into Portwenn, her fatigue vanished and she suddenly felt completely better.

xxx

He swung open the door. He wasn't really surprised to see her there, totally at ease with herself. Bordering on smug. He knew what she was here for; she'd admitted to herself that she may have made a slight oversight. Still, she wasn't going to say the words. If a rare complication had occurred, Barbara Collingsworth could have unnecessarily lost her life on the operating table. Didn't she realise the enormity of the situation? She thanked him for accepting the apology, though there had been no apology.

He remembered Louisa fidgeting before him, getting the word out. Looking ashamed, saying she was sorry. Yet Louisa hadn't done anything wrong, just stood up for what she believed in. On one occasion, he'd been the one at fault. He maintained that the dog wasn't down to him – that was the stupid Harris' up the road who couldn't keep an eye on their pets. But he hadn't listened, he should have listened. The other time it had been her father's fault – though again at the time he'd taken it out on her. She'd put up with so much, he didn't blame her for leaving.

He led the way into the kitchen, hoping that he could get rid of her as soon as possible. What he had learned though with Edith was that it was quicker and easier to play along with the game. He poured two glasses – water, naturally. Unlike him, Edith had always been teetotal. This did make him feel more comfortable. He'd never liked Louisa drinking alcohol – it wasn't good for her health and he never knew whether or not she had an ulterior motive. Though he'd learnt that giving her medical advice generally wasn't a good idea, so he left her to it – and it often had quite positive results.

He had to admit that conversations with Edith were often enjoyable – there weren't many in Portwenn that he could discuss medicine with. Chris was a very good friend but was also effectively his boss, and he wasn't going to admit to having issues. He didn't particularly care about Edith knowing – he'd soon be gone and her opinion wouldn't matter either way. He wasn't denying it to her, he was denying it to himself. It was also nice to talk to someone who had a saner outlook on life, and who most definitely wasn't inbred.

xxx

The good thing about where Martin lived was that unlike her, he didn't live on a busy street. In the evenings it was often deserted. Her excitement was waning, and she was now full of nerves. She got the taxi to drop her off at the bottom of the hill, just out of sight of the harbour so that she could gather her thoughts as she walked. She took her suitcase out of the boot and began her ascent of the hill. She walked slowly, leisurely, glancing around at the sky and hills with joy, listening to the seagulls. She smiled as she felt her hair rise and fall, fluttering in the wind against her face and neck. She'd missed the gentle breeze that she'd rarely felt in London, as all the buildings provided shelter. She sped up quickly past the entrance to Bert's, allowing herself a quick glance over the wall at him chattering to a customer. Carrying on up the hill, she stopped outside the surgery and leant against the wall, admiring the view as she got her breath back. She wasn't as agile as she'd been before, and this hill seemed to have gotten a lot steeper in the time she'd been gone. Glancing back down, she saw Al and Pauline heading out from Bert's. She quickly headed up the steps and round to the back door. Even out of surgery hours, using the front door made her feel like she should be a patient. She hovered there for a minute. The light was on. He must be in the kitchen, he hated to waste electricity. She felt a twinge in her stomach and her hand went to it. No response, must be asleep. No, this was a twinge of nervous excitement and love, knowing that he was so close. She gently knocked on the door.

xxx

Martin looked up in annoyance. He wondered which moronic cretin had come to trouble him this time, and what their 'emergency' was. He was busy dealing with his cut, and if someone saw him having a drink with a mystery woman then assumptions would be all over the village by next morning. He observed the image blurred by the glass. It looked like... no. How many dark haired woman had he double taken at? He'd been haunted by images recently, the latest being that new teacher at the school who wore an identical bouncy ponytail. Still intrigued, he headed over and flung open the door.

xxx

Holding her breath, the seconds ticked by agonisingly slowly. Now she was here she felt unprepared, she didn't know what to say. _Martin, nice to see you, guess what?_ She wished that she could somehow break it to him gently, but that train had long left the station. What was taking so long? The door flung open and she jumped, surprised even though she'd been anxiously waiting.

xxx

Martin couldn't believe his eyes, he was frozen to the spot. Surely, she wasn't really here. Here, to see him. She must have just arrived, she still had her things with her and he would have most certainly been alerted if she'd been here for more than a few hours.

'Louisa...'

He'd spoken her name without thinking. Yes, she was definitely here, there was no mistaking that incomparable beauty. He hadn't expected to feel like this – numb. All these months waiting for her to come back, these weeks of planning, and now here she was. He couldn't take his eyes away from her face; he had to keep looking, to make up for all those lost glances. He never wanted to let her out of his sight again.

xxx

He was talking, that was a good sign at least. He hadn't freaked out yet, and he didn't seemto hate her. As she looked up into his lovely, open, honest face she felt an immense surge of happiness, and felt the first genuine smile of the past months arise on her face.

'Hello, Martin.'


	17. Chapter 17

**Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures.**

Chapter Seventeen

'Hello Martin.'

The familiar sound of her voice – she was the only one to say his name with that exact intonation - confirmed it. She was real, she was here. He longed to take her into his arms, to bury his head into her hair and breathe her in, as he had done on that wonderful afternoon six months ago. Yet he realised that there would be time later, too much time had passed and conversation was first required. It was his turn to speak. He searched his brain for pleasantries. He was determined to get this right.

'How are you?'

She looked much better than the fragile creature that'd left the village; her London stay had clearly done her good. She was almost glowing, her eyes sparkling as she smiled. Aside from looking a little tired, she was the epitome of health and happiness. And glancing down, he saw why.

'You're pregnant!'

_Top marks for stating the obvious_, he told himself as about a thousand feelings flooded him at once, the predominant one being an even bigger surge of love for the woman stood before him. He had allowed his gaze to travel back up to her face for confirmation, though it was unnecessary. Her abdomen jutted proudly to the fore leaving no doubt as to her current condition, yet it didn't detract from her beauty. All normal brain function down the drain, he proceeded to stare dumbly as he tried to process the information.

xxx

Louisa had been standing patiently, waiting for the inevitable moment when he'd notice. She couldn't help finding the look on his face slightly amusing – pure terror. And when he'd declared she was pregnant, she couldn't help thinking _'top marks for stating the obvious, Martin'. _When he'd first opened the door and said her name in the same way he always had, a lot of her trepidation had vanished. She was now quite calm, but she felt her heart flutter as he stared at her. She always felt slightly uneasy under his intense scrutiny; it felt like he could see right into her head – like when he'd examined her after fainting that time. Yet she didn't interrupt him because she remembered how out of her depth she'd felt when she'd first realised, how she still felt sometimes about the strange creature who at some point soon (too soon – where had the time gone?) be forcing its way out of her. Though Martin wouldn't have to deal with that particular aspect she knew he was probably even more freaked out, because he was – well, because he was Martin. She decided he could take as much time as he needed, but the constant eye contact was a little overwhelming so she decided to look around the room. Had it changed much, since she'd been gone?

She realised with shock that it most definitely had. Because sitting at his kitchen table, looking entirely at home was a woman.

'Hello.'

She already disliked the woman, who was being decidedly bitchy whoever she was. She hoped that by saying that she was Martin's 'friend' then the woman would also disclose who she was, but no. Perhaps she already knew about Louisa. If she was... if there was something going on – she was sure the village would have informed her about the wedding fiasco. She obviously wasn't from around here – she had an irritatingly superior accent. Anyway, she had clearly interrupted something, so she began to round things up with Martin, all confidence evaporated, the atmosphere instantly awkward.

'Should I go?'

_Yes! _

'No, no... carry on.'

As she rounded the corner she felt more shaken than Martin had been. It had taken them so long to get together, three whole years, and even then it didn't work out and things frequently went wrong. And here was this woman, after just a few months, completely at home and sure of herself in his home. The way he'd looked frantically between them... they were clearly involved. They'd been engaged! Did that not mean anything? Didn't she mean anything? Obviously not, since he could get together so quickly – with the right person. Ms Perfect , who'd probably never even heard of a hormone. _She'd_ probably never have a contraceptive failure – or failure to use, Louisa still wasn't totally sure. _She_ wouldn't turn up out of the blue with a baby on the way.

xxx

_No, no no! _It was all going horribly wrong, he'd forgotten that Edith was in the room. Since the second he'd opened the door, she'd ceased to exist, and now Louisa had totally gotten the wrong end of the stick. She'd gone already, she always took off when she was hormonal, and now... well, they were definitely ruling her head and he had to go after her. She turned round, and the light was gone from her eyes, she was looking at him with distrust. Now Edith wasn't there, he hoped that they could talk properly, that she could fill him in on everything.

'It's ours...' he liked the sound of that. Him and her as a collective, sharing, tied together now forever by the small foetus inside her – small, but right now looking very big. Again his face held back, but inside he was ecstatic – she'd come to see him, to let him know, she was back in his life and they were having a baby...

'Do you want to get married? Are you certain it's ours?'

Oops – probably not the best idea to blurt out his biggest desire in the first question, especially since she'd only just come back and seen Edith. He wanted to give her as much space as she needed at first, they'd rushed into things last time and it hadn't worked. So he followed it up with another burning question. He had to be absolutely sure, it seemed too good to be true - he didn't want everything shattered later on.

Oops - he realised once he'd said it that that probably wasn't the best question to ask, it didn't exactly show that he had much faith in her and she wouldn't be happy with what he was implying. It was going wrong already; he panicked and was at a loss again. So as usual, the medical side of his brain took over.

'You know it's a bit late for an abortion.'

_Bugger! _She couldn't even bear to look at him anymore, he didn't blame her. If he could have kicked himself right there, that's what he'd have done. He wanted to take it back, to start the whole conversation again. But it was too late – she was carrying on and her voice was cold and matter-of-fact now.

xxx

Louisa was trying to keep her voice steady, to keep the anger and upset from exploding out of her. So he did want an abortion, he'd probably bloody have done it himself if he'd had the chance, trying to suggest it wasn't his, what kind of flipping harlot did he take her for? So she had ruined everything for him, his cosy little life with 'Edith'. He didn't even try to deny anything. Well, why would he? Who wouldn't prefer a slim, refined woman with no baggage to a hormonal wreck?

'Why aren't you in London?'

'_Because I love you, and I couldn't cope.' _Obviously, she couldn't actually be so needy.

'I didn't like London, and the school didn't like this.' Technically, both true and logical. So he wanted her out of the way, did he? Well she wasn't going to leave for him, she was feeling sulky and she'd be stubborn if she wanted to.

xxx

'So you're here...' _I don't need to go anywhere. _She was here, with his baby, she'd never cared about the phobia, it was a part of him. His life was falling into place again.

xxx

'So you're here... _to mess things up for me' _she finished in her head. Well, he'd made his point, and she had her pride. She wasn't going to demand anything of him, when he'd made his feelings so horribly clear. She reassured him that it'd be fine. It was her problem now. Again she trotted resolutely down the hill, determined not to waste the tears on him and yet failing miserably. That was it – over. This had proved once and for all that she shouldn't make impulsive decisions. Hadn't she learned anything from her father? Though she had half been expecting rejection, nothing could have prepared her for the heartache she was now feeling. She headed down towards the harbour where she'd wait a while, compose herself, and get ready to face the rest of her life without him.

xxx

Bert Large had just finished clearing away the dishes and made to head out of the restaurant. He was about to go off to the Doc and ask for some more advice about his love-life, as it really hadn't been going particularly well. He and the diners had seen some fancy woman heading up there earlier. Now, he wasn't one to interrupt on people's private time, no, not him. But from the sound of the heels heading towards him, she was heading home for the night. Taking it slow, eh? But he was taken aback when he poked his head around the wall and saw Louisa coming towards him. His stunned surprise was turned to complete dismay when he noticed the state she was in. Not that she was clearly in the family way – though _wow, _he almost couldn't believe his eyes. No, no – she was crying. Not just crying, she'd looked as though her heart was breaking. She walked past, didn't even notice him, he could tell she wanted to be by herself. He felt angry. His fatherly instincts towards that lovely girl were taking over, and it was all he could do to go back to his flat and resist from going up to see the Doc right now. How _dare_ he get her into that condition and then upset her on top of it.

_Always knew he were a tosser._

xxx

Martin looked after her with despair. No! He couldn't believe that after last time, after the whole six months he'd spent loving her and missing her and dreaming about her, despairing after her and cursing himself, feeling guilty, making so many changes for this moment, all the hurt and regret... and it was happening again. Déjà vu.

Edith was quizzing him, his answers were robotic, systematic, he had been so shell shocked and now the feelings were coming in fast. Does she have a job? No, actually – she doesn't. Of course that hopeless Strain was in her house, he remembered now. How would she pay to stay at the pub without a job, it was so stupidly expensive there. He wanted to go after her and spin her round, tell her everything on his mind. But she'd as good as told him he wasn't to be involved. She had said she didn't want to marry him. He realised that Edith was speaking again. Ugh, this time the tears really would rise if he told her to shut up, she'd press it, push him and he couldn't deal with her right now, so he just replied in his head.

'Don't feel you have to rescue her. She's chosen to have a baby.'

_She's chosen to have __**my **__baby. _She could have had an abortion, she could have not mentioned it, she could have cut him out completely. Who'd want a baby like him? He'd obviously been irritating and needy; his own mother had said so. But he hadn't had a mother like Louisa. She'd be amazing; she'd even worked wonders on him. And the fact of the matter was that he wanted to. He wanted to see his child grow up, loved and nurtured by her, being all the things that he could have been but wasn't. Either way he was sure she would succeed, and be the best mother in the world. But he wanted to all the same. He wanted to rescue her.

**THE END**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I much appreciate it and I apologise for all of the sadness :(**


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